From Dig to Digs
by GreenEyedVixen
Summary: Far from your typical Head Boy/Head Girl scenario. Don't think 'cease and desist', think 'seize and displease'. But how far can Hermione go before she's in too deep? Slytherins do have a way of clouding one's judgement. Rated for language, themes, scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I will be writing this once for application to all chapters. Harry Potter and all recognisable characters, themes and settings are the property of JK Rowling. All unrecognizable elements, and the plot, can be credited to me. **

**A/N: I know I'm working on my main story 'A Cognitive Dissonance'. I have also been writing this one over some time, just snippets here and there, but have decided to post it as my small efforts have suddently amounted to something considerable. It is very different from my other story - the language is a little fiercer, the character attitudes are bolder, being teenages and all, and it exploits the whole Head Boy/Head Girl situation, which I know exists in abundance, but it serves me well on this occassion. :P**

* * *

The classroom was dark, save for the flickering candlelight that illuminated the doorway and the gentle moonlight that slivered through the narrow windows in the corners of the unknown space. Quietly, a set of fingers gently curled over the heavy doorhandle releasing the stale air of the room, as Hermione Granger quietly entered after curfew. The doorway had caught the attention of the young witch that afternoon as she sought solace from the taunts of a bunch of steely seventh year Slytherins, led by one Draco Malfoy. As it was a daily occurrence, Hermione had lately taken to outright ignoring the twats, much to their disappointment, which only lead to their persistence in their attacks.

During charms, she would consistently have disillusioned flying notes hovering above her head constantly pecking at her, with no worthy message in them other than the recurring insult of 'mudblood'; or 'prude'; or 'suck up'. In potions, Snape had been rather generous at the beginning of the year and required them to work with a member of the opposite house. Hermione, much to her disappointment, was stuck with Blaise Zabini. This only resulted in further contact with said Draco Malfoy. Transfiguration was bearable, only just, since Professor McGonagall did not tolerate any misbehaviour. It was also a relief to have Harry and Ron in the class, which lifted her spirits tenfold. All in all, the attention directed at Hermione was explained by the fact that she was Head Girl and said Draco Malfoy was Head Boy, with a personal vendetta to drive Hermione crazy and all the way out.

It was unpleasant enough that they shared a common room in the Head quarters but she was glad that was all. Her dorm room and bathroom were a good distance away from his, leaving each to their own devices. They had split their duties down the middle at the beginning of the year, but Malfoy was doing little to keep his end of the arrangement. The year was starting out sourly.

"_Malfoy, have you nominated the days you want to patrol yet?" _

"_Get off my case Granger, I will patrol when you don't. Simple."_

"_Fine, Friday, Saturday, Monday won't be a problem then?"_

"_I'll have to get back to you, I need to check my social calendar first," the smug smirk forming on his insufferable face as she glared at him from the opposite end of the room. _

"_Perhaps McGonagall can settle this for us." _

"_If you can't handle it Granger, then perhaps you're just not cut our for this Head girl stuff!" _

_A flustered Hermione walked into her room and closed the door: more like slammed it. Draco 1, Hermione 0. The battle was on. _

Returning to the room Hermione Granger had stumbled upon, in desperation to avoid giving Malfoy and his entourage a piece of her mind; she charmed the lamps with a wave of her wand and sank into the armchair taking in her surroundings, trying to find resolve in handling one very difficult Head Boy. She had never noticed the room existed, and much to her liking, it was a perfect little hideout. Of course it would be, offering a personal library; a heavy oak desk stacked with quills and parchment; one very fine red velvet armchair; and even a potions corner with a full storage of ingredients. She could not shake off the feeling that this room was made for her eyes only. No, it wasn't the room of requirement, but it certainly had all that she required. Then why did no on else notice it? With little time to take it all in that afternoon she returned in the evening, upon completing her rounds, for a little more investigation.

Being the inquisitive type, Hermione scanned the walls of the room carefully for any hidden openings or clues of previous occupants. None availed across the cold stone. The only hangings were a tapestry of composed stately figures engaged in conversation. As she reached the selection of books her hands trailed along the delicate spines taking in some of the titles:

_Advanced Magic Volume V_

_Keeping up Appearances: How to Prolong the Effects of Polyjuice Potion_

_Manipulative Magic_

_Managing your Enemies_

_Magical Enlightenment: Heightening your sensory perception_

Surely this room had to be on the Marauders' Map? She would ask Harry in the morning. But for now, she found comfort in knowing she had somewhere to escape the escalating escapades of seventh year bureaucracy. She knew Advanced Magic ended at volume IV in the library so she curiously disturbed its home and eagerly opened it at she sat cross legged on the plush indigo rug sprawled before the bookcase. Hermione Granger just might be able to secure a further edge to her high achieving status. She soon forgot about Malfoy as she discovered a sneaky little charm for procuring unwanted odours. She did not want to practice on herself, but a mischievous grin formed across her innocent lips as she pondered the uses of the _Puteo_ charm. Returning to her dorm, heavy lidded and content, Hermione looked forward to the next day.

The Great Hall was abuzz with the usual morning gossip at the Gryffindor table. Hermione entered in a cheerful mood, filling her plate with an array of breakfast goodness. Ron was late and Harry was sitting with Ginny as they flirted over fruit salad. Hermione cringed at their affectionate glances at each other and hand holding, so chose to engross herself in the Daily Prophet.

"Hey, Hermione?" She turned to Dean in response. He had been making an effort lately to talk to her but she had not read into it. He was good that way, easy to chat to and had a natural charm with all the girls, a popular crush worthy Gryffindor. She liked that he did not feel threatened by her Head Girl status.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Wanna go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" he blasted across the table. Her face flushed at the sight of heads turning to look at her, the Slytherin rat pack included. Dean just shrugged at her, realising his tact, or lack thereof, his shamelessness apparent nonetheless. Hermione found herself in a difficult situation. She didn't want to look like a fussy prude, like she was so sorely labelled. And, anyway, how could she refuse? It's not like she had them lining up with such requests; he wasn't bad company after all.

"Yeah, okay," she responded with a false confidence and shot him her best smile to conceal her nerves as he beamed back at her. She returned back to her reading, but yrying to act indifferent was rather difficult. After a few controlled minutes, she gracefully, or at least swiftly, walked out of the hall for her first class. She felt rather giddy, like a schoolgirl. 'How appropriate', she chuckled to herself as she turned the corner in the direction of the dungeons.

Her moment was ruined by the sight of her lab partner and the beloved Head Boy strutting from the opposite direction.

"Threatening people to ask you out in public is a little desperate, Granger," Malfoy snidely remarked. Blaise sent a curt nod to the Head Girl before acknowledging Malfoy's taunt with a snort.

"Maybe I'd consider threatening you to a date too, if only you weren't - you!" she retorted, looking rather bored at the direction of the conversation.

"Sorry to disappoint, Granger, but it would never work out, you being a Gryffindor _and_ an undersirable mudblood," he scolded, as they closed in on each other. She turned swiftly into the classroom and walked over to sit at her assigned desk. Blaise walked up and sat down next to her. Malfoy took his place at the desk in front, turning his chair to face them. Hermione's rubbed her palms over her face in anguish, emitting a faint groan. How could Snape do this to her? She was the best potions student _and_ the Head Girl; surely she had some right to free choice? Malfoy, noticing her frustration and feeling rather pleased, continued to eye her in an attempt to make her snap.

"Granger," he opened, "didn't know you were interested in the opposite sex. I'd classify you as one of the asexual types who get off on new release books." His eyes twinkled with disgust. Hermione sighed, lifting her wand and pointing it in the direction of his face.

"Malfoy, as Head _Boy,_ try and act the part. Get over yourself, and my sexual orientation. Now turn your chair around, or I will _make_ you turn around," she warned through clenched teeth, glaring fiercely into his ice drawn eyes. Before Malfoy could retaliate, Snape walked in, effectively ending any further argument. Blaise shoved Malfoy in the shoulder to turn around, motioning his head in the direction of Snape.

"Didn't know _sexual_ was in your vocab, Granger," he retorted maliciously, breaking his glare as he reluctantly turned to face the front.

Professor Snape spoke rapidly, instructing them on today's task, a sleeping potion: _Dormiri. _Hermione set to work, grabbing the ingredients. The atmosphere between her and Blaise was rather tense, she didn't feel like talking and he seemed to be avoiding throwing crude comments her way.

As the cauldron boiled away, Hermione looked over the table to Dean Thomas, who was partnered with Pansy Parkinson, perusing over his rather handsome profile as she waited to add her next ingredient. His chestnut hair spiked at the front; she liked his edgy look. He turned to look at her, catching her eyes and mouthed, _"_hey". She sent him a small wave and he winked. Her giddiness returned.

"Granger, are you going to add the bulbs or are you waiting for an invite?" Blaise had been eyeing her exchange with the Gryffindor from sheer boredom and took pleasure in reminding her about the task at hand.

"Oh, right. Sorry," she murmured, adding the ingredient and stirring once. He rolled his eyes knowingly. Hermione did not blush, she merely shrugged it off. Why give the Slytherin the satisfaction.

"You Gryffindor kids act all innocent. I know for a fact that is not the case," Blaise commented nonchalantly.

"Why do I want to hear this, Zabini?" Hermione questioned snidely.

"I guess you don't. Just wait for Thomas to _show_ you," he quipped.

"Whatever." Hermione dismissed his remark as she realised the potion was complete, having turned a very bold azure. She flicked her wrist, wand in hand, and the contents of the cauldron relocated to an empty flask, as she sealed it with the stopper.

"Make sure you label your flasks, I don't want to have to guess, although it would be easy for some of you," Snape snapped as he looked over at Gryffindors in particular. The Slytherins of course snickered; they always sought delight in Snape's singling out of the rival house. As Hermione packed her belongings, Dean walked over to greet her.

"Mind if I walk you to your next class?" Dean suggested eagerly. Blaise made a gagging sound and gesture at Malfoy who couldn't help himself laugh at their expense.

"Skip the foreplay, Thomas, and get a room. Oh wait, it's Granger, you might need to hold hands first," Malfoy interjected, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Jealous much, Malfoy?" Dean was a smooth talker.

"If only…" he started before pausing and running his eye over Hermione, "Mudbloods just don't do it for me." Blaise could not restrain himself from snickering at the sight. Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration, and Dean was plain livid, fist forming, almost ready to pounce. He was known in Gryffindor for his short temper and preference for muggle methods in such situations. "Thomas, in all your rage, for reasons beyond me, let me remind you that I am the Head Boy, this will end badly for you," Malfoy threatened icily, his eyes narrowing.

"Just ignore him, lets go," Hermione grabbed Dean's arm leading him away, not bothering to even give Malfoy the satisfaction of her glare. Dean grudgingly followed while the two Slytherin prats clearly were not in a state of suppressed laughter.

"I don't know how you deal with that – that – sod," Dean said seething. "If you need peace of mind, let me give him a piece of my fist." Dean's eyes filled with mirth at the thought of Malfoy being knocked out cold.

"He's not worth it, and his bloody Head Boy status is like his immunity. He can get away with harassing everyone but unfortunately, I am the only one in a position to dish it back. Trust me when I say, I am working on giving him a taste of his own medicine," Hermione reassured, grinning like the Cheshire cat in contemplation.

"Always knew you had a rebellious streak," Dean teased, flirting with the idea of bad girl Hermione. He was rather impressed. "So, on Saturday, I'll come get you from your common room?" Dean suggested. Hermione liked the idea of imposing her male visitors on one very conceited Malfoy, just as he so obviously did with his Slytherin groupies.

"Perfect," she replied. He left her at the Transfiguration classroom entrance with Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A peak into life in the Head Digs...**

* * *

"Harry, can I borrow the marauder's map?" Hermione whispered, noticing he wasn't paying attention to McGonagall's theory class, but rather, he was doodling snitches on his parchment. Harry raised an eyebrow in interest, surveying his friend's face for any sign of mischief.

"It's just for some prefect stuff - some of them aren't practicing what they preach and I want to catch them out," she convincingly lied. Harry eyed her warily.

"Hermione, don't you think that's a little vicious? I mean, aren't you supposed to just trust them?" he queried.

"I'm not going to have their badges revoked, it will be more of a reprimand," she hurriedly assured. She might just go through with this thought after all, along with her initial intention.

"Fine, but I don't approve. And, I might need to borrow your notes for this class," he grinned sheepishly. Harry was, after all, more into practical magic rather than books and theory. His emerald eyes regarded his reliable friend with the familiar warmth that he saved for only Hermione and Ron.

"Like you never do!" Hermione could only laugh, elbowing him softly at his attempt to blackmail her.

The morning dragged on, Hermione walked back to the Head's common room, after Harry had given her the marauder's map, to dump her rather impressive load of parchment, wrist sore from her rapid note taking. As she entered behind the portrait, charmed to appear like an extension of the corridor with a knight guarding the path, Hermione could hear muffled discussion coming from the common room.

"- definitely an 8…that makes 7 for me-"

"- Fuck…all the good ones!"

"-what about - …changed my mind-"

Hermione stepped quietly into the room to find Zabini, Malfoy and Nott in deep conversation, looking over a parchment. Her stomach rumbling, she just wanted to get out as soon as possible, avoiding any confrontation. Too late.

"Granger!" Malfoy bellowed, slightly shocked, but quickly masking his worry at how long the Head Girl had been there. His anger almost gave her a fright…almost. She glared at the lot of them. Zabini was looking slightly uncomfortable. Nott maintained his cool blankness. "What are you doing here!" he seethed.

"If I may recall, I am the Head Girl - "

"I don't give a fuck if you're a professor, what did you hear?" he pierced her indifferent eyes like he was ready to perform _legilimens_ on her.

"Nothing, I just walked in then, like I care what you prats are up to," she stated flatly, turned, and stormed into her room, slamming the door…again, an uncontrollable rage starting to build in the pit of her stomach. She silenced her room and threw her books against the wall. The nerve of that chauvinist! They were supposed to be equals – this was her space as much as his! Hermione needed to compose herself before her next class. As her hunger pains were overcome with bile building in her gut from her disdain, she sought refuge in a soothing bath.

Preceding this unsurprising raucous exchange, Hermione was excited about the changing state of events that had emerged this week. As she relaxed in a pool of delicious aromas, Hermione could not help but conjure thoughts of Dean and their impending date. She never thought he would be interested in her, but in retrospect, he did make an effort to speak to her, and make her laugh, or listen to her when Ron and Harry were bothersome. Hermione, not having any close girlfriends to confide in, struggled to show any deep emotion, and was rather guarded in showing her affections. Except for Malfoy and his goons of course – the only affection she had for them was pure loathing and distaste. Like a permanent lingering of the aftertaste of a decent retch.

Thoughts disturbed by her wand's escalating screech acting as an alarm for her next class, Hermione dried off and changed into her uniform before heading to Ancient Runes. The common room was empty on her way out, thankfully.

* * *

The Great Hall was abuzz with gossip, catching up, eyeing exchanges, and clutter. Hermione dragged herself in, after a long day of class and reading, finding a spot next to Harry. She started to load her plate with food, paying no head to Ron's incredulous stares as she stacked her plate.

"Hermione, you ok?"

"What's wrong Ron? A girl can't eat as much as a boy?"

"Well…no. At least, I've never seen you try. Just don't think you'll be able to finish all that!"

"Watch me!" Her challenging eyes not leaving Ron's bewildered stare, as she stuck her fork into the shepherd's pie first and filled her mouth with the tantalising warmth.

Dinner progressed with Ron and Harry shooting Hermione looks of amazement as she polished of her plate. Ron almost fell back off the bench seat as she then reached for some sticky date pudding. Boys just did not understand that there was always room for dessert, especially for a girl with cravings.

Feeling satisfied to the hilt, Hermione upped and walked out of the Great Hall, telling her two friends that she had some Head stuff to attend to and would catch up with them later. She rounded the corner of the fourth floor, and instead of continuing along her usual route, she carefully headed to her personal library, swiftly opening the door before anyone could notice.

Hermione reclined on her newly favoured velvet armchair, taking out the marauder's map from the internal pocket of her school robes. Whispering, "_I solemnly swear I am up to no good,_" as she tapped the map with the tip of her wand, it revealed itself. She scanned through it trying to find her name. Harry and Ron were still in the Great Hall, Ginny was with Dean. Malfoy was in their common room with Blaise and Nott again. Wait. Ginny was with Dean? She looked back to see that they were in the corridor leading up to the Gryffindor tower but they weren't moving towards the entrance. That's weird. She didn't give it any further thought and concentrated instead on finding the ribbon with her name floating about the fourth floor.

There was nothing to that description. In fact, the room didn't seem to be represented at all. There was the unused classroom next door, and the corridor intersecting it appeared closer, as if the room she was in didn't exist. Hermione frowned, feeling perplexed. What could possible make this room evade the undeniably precise map? She looked up at the tapestry of figures, wondering if any would know. She approached them, eyeing them closely, "Hello? Can you hear me?" she timidly started. No response came. It was unusual compared to the other portraits in the castle whose figures were the eyes and ears of the hallways, speaking to students, responding to other portraits, and travelling through them. She frowned in concentration, defeated, and moved to sit on the rug, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling soaking up the golden silence.

Hermione woke a few hours later to find herself curled up on the rug; the embers of the flames from the fire had died out. It would be well after curfew and Hermione was feeling extremely guilty at the abuse of her power she had just exercised, even if by accident. She quietly left the room, and headed back to her quarters. The fire in the common room was still ablaze, she figured Malfoy had been up late. Feeling nostalgic from the warmth she had relied on in her library she sat on the couch, soaking up the soothing flames once again.

As she began to doze off, still in her robes, a sudden shuffling and murmuring of voices interrupted her from submitting to her looming slumber. She lazily looked around the room, seeing Malfoy's door open. She straightened out across the couch, not wanting to be seen as Malfoy entered the common room holding the hand of a girl she recognised as being from Ravenclaw, but did not know her name. He had walked her to the portrait where they stood kissing for what seem like a torturous length of time, before she exited.

Feeling rather displeased to have witnessed Malfoy and his latest play thing, she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep and hoping that her presence would go unnoticed. She focused on steadying her breathing and waited for Malfoy to retreat to his room and shut his door. Her patience was waning as she listened out for the signal that he was gone, but it did not present itself. She heard a rustling noise and felt a slight breeze as she sensed that he was approaching the couches. She heard him sit opposite her, unmoving. What the hell was he doing? Keeping her eyes closed and breathing steadied she was growing uneasy at what Malfoy was up to.

She felt his eyes on her. Hermione was inwardly cursing herself for not going straight to her room, for feeling enticed by the comfort the fire yielded. She suddenly heard the creak of the leather couch from his movement. She felt his body heat near her. Very near her. He was leaning over; his lips close to her ear.

"Granger, I know you're awake, just thought I should tell you there was a little bit of action going on that couch earlier that you weren't privy to," he whispered huskily. She inwardly cringed, the hairs on her neck standing on end. Oh, how she wanted to hex him. But she would not prove him right by opening her eyes. His hand reached out and touched her hair; it was such a creepy gesture she wanted to scream.

Before Hermione could react he had stood up and walked away, she heard his door shut with finality. She was frozen from shock, she was disgusted, and an overwhelming sense of fear crept over her that she had never previously associated with Malfoy. She ran to the bathroom, throwing off her robes, luckily her uniform had been protected, and dumped it on the floor, never to be worn again. She undressed quickly and jumped in the shower, the hairs on her skin had not yet relaxed and the feel of the hot water made her shiver from head to toe. She stood under the running shower head, calming her nerves. Finally, she stepped out of the shower and reached for her wand, performing a drying spell and a scrougify charm for good measure. Hermione dressed quickly, desiring to be under her bed covers. She sighed at the safety she felt once under them, drifting off into a very deep yet disturbed sleep.

Her hate for Malfoy had risen to unimaginable heights.

* * *

A/N: Poor Hermione...or perhaps not? :p


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hermione is not as sweet as one might think...**

* * *

The only thing that ensured Hermione's sanity around the Head Boy was the knowledge that she was planning to exact revenge. She was biding her time, scheming, calculating her moves. Malfoy would not know what had hit him, and it would be a gradual process until she broke him, just as she knew he had planned for her. First things first, she would have to get to know her enemy. Perhaps play him from the inside. 'Yes,' she thought, a look into his real persona to determine his vulnerabilities, his insecurities, although she doubted he had any, his deepest darkest secrets.

She had woken up early to begin her exercises. First things first, some redecorating was in order. Entering the common room, wand in hand, she transfigured the notorious couch into several pink bean bags. The other, she altered its colour from deep-moss leather to a bright red. The black carpet was instantly transformed into a deep magenta with blue stars floating about, and the mahogany finish of the bookshelves was replaced with a bright orange veneer. It really was the perfect eyesore. The clash of colour generated an almost hallucinogenic perceptive response – and the beauty of it was, it could not be undone, thanks to _Advanced Magic Volume V._

The fact that no professor would recognise the change should Malfoy seek retribution by complaining to the higher authorities only added to her pleasure, as she had conditioned the transformations so that only people under a certain age would be privy to her creativeness. She chuckled out loud, almost vindictively. Despite the horror before her, Hermione would take comfort sitting here knowing it was her doing, and besides, she always had her library to escape to. Phase one was in action. She happily headed to breakfast, anticipating the reaction.

"So, what puts you in a good mood today? Surely not potions?" Ron quizzed as Hermione sat eating her toast with a sly grin plastered on her face.

"I just mastered some new spells," she offered vaguely. Ron just rolled his eyes, unbelieving that some new spell could create such exhilaration in his friend's demeanour.

"Anything worth teaching me?" he asked between mouthfuls.

"She turned her attention to him, smiling eagerly, "You bet." She continued to munch on her toast as the Great Hall doors swung open, presenting a seething Malfoy who was quickly approaching her table.

"Granger! What the fuck do you think you're playing at?" he gritted through his teeth, loud enough for her ears only as he had leaned over her, his arms on either side of the table, locking her in place.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she remarked inscrutably. "You're in my space Malfoy, you shouldn't get too close to a _mudblood_, it might be detrimental to your health," she continued with such definitive indifference, she could feel his eyes burning a hole through her head as she munched on her toast. Her insides were screaming with delight and they were beginning to draw attention to themselves.

"Get lost Malfoy," Ron demanded.

"Weasley this is between Granger and I, fuck off," he glared at him with pure loathing, his hands still on either side of her. She was becoming rather tired of his dominating stance. "A word Granger. Outside. Now!" he commanded sharply. She merely shook her head.

"Actually Malfoy, I am rather busy at the moment, perhaps you can put it in writing and send it care of Head Girl, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts?" she retorted, jabbing her wand in his side. He flinched in surprise at her quick withdrawal.

"Granger, you have just started something you can't win," he whispered acerbically, the echo of his voice reverberating down her neck as he withdrew. She shivered involuntarily before shrugging her shoulders, so he could visibly register her willingness to play the game. He stormed off agitated; she frowned at the recollection of his threat.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, you've outdone yourself. Malfoy looked really pissed," Ron congratulated, lifting the mood once again. She smiled at him in acknowledgment.

"Let's just say its time to fight fire with fire."

* * *

Throughout the day, Malfoy and his goons taunted Hermione to the point where she could not even stay focused or answer questions in class. In charms, while Professor Flitwick babbled on with his back turned to the class, she was fighting off disillusioned origami that continuously caught in her hair – she would need to find a bubble protection charm for the next class. In potions, Blaise was extremely uncooperative to the point where Snape threw them out of the classroom for bickering and afterward had given detention only to Hermione for not setting an example as Head Girl. In the hallways, she was nearly tripped three times, the fourth was successful, and she fell on her backside, parchment landing everywhere which would take her hours to could not even deduct house-points as she didn't see exactly who the perpetrators were.

At dinner, every time she took a mouthful of food it turned to dust in her mouth: she looked over to see Draco smirking triumphantly at her. In retaliation, she went and sat next to Dean, asking him to share his pudding with him. He, along with the rest of the Gryffindor table, was gob smacked at Hermione's sudden flirtatious behaviour, as Dean fed her mouthfuls of pudding and she giggled, partly at the ridiculousness of her actions, at the fact that Dean was enjoying the attention, and mostly, because Malfoy's look of disgust was priceless.

Despite everything, Hermione was seething at the fact that Malfoy had involved his friends in their battle. This caused for some serious action. She did not want to directly attack them since that would just give them a reason to fight. She needed to clear this up with Malfoy, and it would be tonight.

"Hey Padma!" She called out, trying to catch up with the Ravenclaw.

"Oh, hey Hermione, what's up?"

"I'm relieving you from patrols tonight."

"Oh, really?" She seemed disappointed. Hermione knew exactly why. Malfoy was the reason. She rolled her eyes in disbelief at how much attention Malfoy received from the opposite sex, and not just the silly ones.

"Yeah, I know how much you are committed to your prefect duties, that's really great, but I can't do tomorrow night due to a meeting with Professor McGonagall so I need you to fill in then. I just thought I should do you a favour by relieving you tonight."

"I guess." She shrugged her shoulders, although her disheartened expression did not go unnoticed by Hermione. She just ignored it.

"Great, thanks Padma. I'll make it up to you!" She flashed her diplomatic smile and walked away, disgusted by Padma's obsession with being around Malfoy.

* * *

Hermione sat reclined on a bean bag, enjoying the new found comfort without the cringe factor of the old couch, skimming through a book. She was waiting for Malfoy to return from quidditch practice to surprise him with her news. This was the first time they would ever be patrolling together, and after last night's display, she was a little worried about his reactions. Despite her new found confidence, driven from her agenda to fight back, she was hesitant about roaming the halls with her worst nightmare.

His footsteps entering the common room broke her thoughts. She looked up at him and gave her best smile of defiance, reclining further into the beanbag to make a point. He glared at her, before walking straight to his room and slamming the door. Now that was a first, Malfoy slamming his door. She chuckled, tracing her wand over the moving stars of the carpet. There was so much more pleasure to be gained from retaliating rather than ignoring the prat all this time.

He emerged looking ridiculously refreshed, and was heading toward the entry without even glancing at her to start patrols.

"Oh, I thought you should know that I will be patrolling with you tonight?" she remarked standing and walking toward him. He spun around on his heel to face her, a look of pure contempt on his face.

"What the fuck are you talking about? We never patrol together. That is _one_ thing we could actually agree on!" he snapped, his eyes boring into hers.

"Well, Padma couldn't patrol tonight so I was the only fallback. Guess we just have to suck it up and get on with it. Unless… maybe you're just not cut out for this Head _Boy_ stuff?" She tilted her head sarcastically.

"Do not talk to me, do not look at me, and do not stand less than two feet away from me? Is that clear?" he demanded, his voice filled with anger at her throwback references, and she could tell he was annoyed that he would not be spending _quality_ time with Padma. She smiled, which only aggravated him further. He turned and stormed out of the room.

The silence was deafening, to the point where Hermione thought she could hear the portrait figures breathing. Of course, it was her mind playing tricks on her as she walked alongside Malfoy, keeping her two foot distance, for her own sanity as well as avoiding any interaction. They were onto the fourth floor, the one which contained here secret hideaway. For a moment she panicked that Malfoy would notice the distinct door, like she had, as they approached the corner to turn down the hallway of its locale. She hesitated, Malfoy noticed. He turned to look at her, the first time that evening.

"Granger, where is that Gryffindor spirit that you freaks always seem to refer to?" he remarked snidely.

"Don't know what you're talking about," she retorted absently. They turned the corner; she hesitated once more as the door came into her view.

"What the hell is your problem?" he fumed.

"Nothing!" she spat in defiance, looking away from the door in hope that he wouldn't follow her gaze. They passed the classroom preceding the room, as the marauder's map had shown. Malfoy opened the door to check if anyone was inside. He chuckled, perhaps at a private joke or something. Hermione frowned.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He hadn't opened other classroom doors. Why this one?

"Remember rule number one? Don't talk to me!" he barked, his tone patronising.

"You are such a child," she resigned, sighing. He glared at her insult as he shut the door. Her door was fast approaching next. She picked up her pace, glancing at the doorway and then quickly looking down. Malfoy was frustrated by her erratic behaviour.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She didn't respond. She was just passing the door when he stopped. She turned to look at him, nervously keeping an eye on the brass handle of her library through her peripheral view.

"Why are you stopping?"she stammered. "We still have two more floors to patrol." He was regarding her with narrowed eyes. She couldn't help but shoot quick glances towards _her_ door. '_Stupid_!' she scolded herself. Malfoy turned to follow her gaze, picking up on her fleeting eyes.

"Granger, why the _fuck_ do you keep staring at the same spot on the wall?" he demanded.

"I thought you told me not to speak!" she snapped, avoiding the subject.

"Whatever," he shoved past her, clearly breaking the two foot rule as his shoulder bumped hers purposely. She was almost winded from the impact, her breath caught from the force.

"Bastard," she whispered under her breath. She caught up to him, thankful that her secret was safe. The door had not revealed itself to Malfoy. She sighed in relief.

They reached the common room shortly after, the rest of the patrol passed in the same deafening silence. As they entered the room he turned to her after scoffing at the state of the space.

"I demand you return the common room to its former state!" he ordered.

"I can't see that happening, I'm afraid."

"Granger!" he growled.

"Malfoy!" she yelled back. "You better stop getting your entourage to do your dirty work!"

"You're the Head Girl, Granger. Deal with it!"

"Well then, you deal with the lovely colour scheme."

"Just because you can't get any, does not mean that you can spoil my use of the common room."

"This is not about _getting_ _any,_ Malfoy, I rather like the new look. It's what you call, _chirpy_," she retorted, ending on a high note. "And, if you get up to anything inappropriate in the common room where I have to sit, I will personally make sure that you never patrol with anyone other then me! I will torment you."

"Is that a threat Granger?" He closed in on her, he was a good head taller than Hermione and she could feel him overshadow her but her rage was too volatile to be retracted.

"Yes, Malfoy, consider that it is?"

"Well, I think patrolling is a small price to pay for watching you squirm with anxiety over the possible events that have taken place on that lolly red couch, or those pink beanbags," he spat in distaste.

"How far you want to push this is up to you Malfoy. So, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Granger, you scare me about this much," he scoffed, holding his forefinger and thumb only millimetres apart in her face before smirking, leaning in closer to intimidate her.

"Get out of my way Malfoy, you are a such a jerk!" She shoved his hand out of her face, and started towards her room. He grabbed her arm unexpectedly, gripping it securely.

"Do not. Touch me. Again," he uttered through gritted teeth, as if he were restraining himself. Hermione yanked her arm from his grasp with vigour, scowling at him.

"Likewise," she spat and slammed her door. She was glad the castle walls were two feet thick or else the Head quarters would surely have rattled the foundations from all the heated door slamming.

* * *

A/N: Don't you just love Hermione? :p


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I stress that this is NOT a Dean Thomas/Hermione story. You can breath out now...:p**

* * *

Saturday morning came and Hermione awoke early to plan for her date with Dean. It was a little difficult to comprehend in her mind that she had to _prepare_ for a trip to Hogsmeade. Normally, her time was always directed to school work and related duties, which caused for neglect in other aspects of her life, self grooming in particular. That is not to say she didn't look respectable. Hermione was the perfect student in all facets of the term, including immaculate presentation, save for her unruly hair and matters related to _improving_ one self. She just had a set of priorities that warranted attention , being the weekend, she could finally focus on something other than the fundamentals that her life depended upon.

Her morning proceeded as follows: wash hair, leave conditioner in for at least 15 minutes for deep nourishing and detangling; pluck eyebrows; general hair removal; mini facial for better application of makeup. Indeed, Hermione was familiar with the grooming necessities of a teenage girl, and proceeded to pamper herself in preparation. She styled her hair to grace her shoulders in desirable soft curls, less the frizz, and applied the basic feature heightening mascara and light mineral foundation with a hint of blush. Finally, what to wear: this was a more difficult matter since her wardrobe mainly consisted of school uniform and basic casual attire. Yet, nothing seemed appropriate for a casual date. She decided to borrow something from Lavender, surely there was nothing that girl like more than to play the part of stylist. She walked through the common room, finding it empty, and headed for the Gryffindor Tower. It was amazing how few students were up on a Saturday morning, it was almost as if the schools had emptied for the weekend.

Reaching the portrait of the fat lady, she walked through and up to her old dorm room, knocking once before opening the door and peeking through. Lavender and Pavarti were sitting on their beds, awake and chatting half asleep.

"Hey guys, can I come in?"

"Sure! What brings you to our neck of the woods so early?" Lavender asked.

"I have a favour to ask?"

"Are you wearing makeup?" Pavarti squinted at her from her lying position.

"Uhm, a little?"

"Looks good. Date with Dean eh?"

"How'd you know?"

"Who doesn't?" Lavender interrupted.

"Right, well…yeah. Uhm, I was hoping you could lend me some jeans or something to wear?"

The response was a squeal of delight from both girls, who ran to Hermione, dragging her in from the doorway.

"I am so flattered you asked me! Here, these jeans are a great fit. And, perhaps this little chiffon French cut shirt to go with? It's very cute!" Hermione caught the clothes with surprise as Lavender pulled them from her wardrobe and flung them over her shoulder. Pavarti walked over and ran her fingers through Hermione's hair.

"What are you doing Pavarti?"

"You're hair actually looks and _feels_ soft!" she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised with the texture. Hermione just rolled her eyes. "You should have it like that all the time," she continued, patting her hair as if she were a small animal. Hermione stepped away from her grasp, feeling rather strange by Pavarti's declaration. It didn't look that different did it?

"Thanks, Lavender, this looks good. I owe you one."

"Anytime, although I might hold you to that. Perhaps you can overlook a future out-past-curfew scenario?" she winked.

"Yeah fine, just keep it PG. Don't want to catch you in the act or anything remotely disturbing."

"No, I just might be coming back to the dorms a little late."

"I don't want to know. Do not disclose anything else. I am the Head Girl, you know!"

"Yeah, yeah," she dismissed.

"See you guys later. Probably run into you at Hogsmeade?"

"We'll be around, for sure."

Hermione made her way back to her dorm, delighted by her new outfit. The shirt was a little see-through but nothing like a black bra to make a statement about it. Hermione laughed at the idea of wearing something so risqué, but figured, 'why not'. After all, the common room looked like it belonged to a lollypop lady, but it was turning out to be quite a pleasant change. Slipping on her sequined silver ballet flats, Hermione gave herself the once over in her bathroom mirror, relatively pleased that it looked like she had made an effort with her appearance for a change.

The jeans sat nicely, tapering into a slim fit at ankle, the shirt had the right level of looseness, and her hair was playing nice. Hermione Looked at her watch: it read 8:50. Dean said he would swing by at 9am. Deciding to wait in the common room, she plonked herself onto one of the beanbags she had grown to love, staring up at the ceiling in a daze, half shutting her eyes for a quick snooze. Her amateur meditative state was interrupted by a loud knock at the portrait door. She lifted herself up and headed over to open it, expecting Dean to be waiting. It was 8:59.

The portrait swung open to reveal Zabini and Nott waiting on the other side. She thought Draco would have given away the password to his favourite buddies. Apparently not. She regarded them coolly, avoiding any politeness. They looked back, both somewhat confused by something. She figured she should speak up.

"You guys here for a reason?" She shifted her weight to one leg. She could see Zabini's eyes trailing down her torso which only made her scoff. Nott seemed to come to the rescue.

"Draco up yet?" he inquired with a non-committal regard for civility. She could not register any hint of morning pleasantry beyond his scrunched up face.

"How would I know?" she turned and walked back to the couches. They seemed to get the idea that they could enter. The portrait door remained open. She leaned back on the beanbag and continued to stare at the ceiling. She could see them in her periphery taking in the new furnishings with disbelief as they stood a few metres from her.

"What happened here?" Nott asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. She lowered her head to their level.

"Huh?" Nott reiterated with an arm gesture to the space around him with his eyebrows raised. Zabini was playing the part of the quiet friend this morning. She inwardly sniggered. "A bit of redecorating, it was getting stuffy in here," she chirped. "Malfoy's idea, actually," she added for the hell of it.

"Yeah, right," Nott mumbled. They both walked over to Malfoy's door. "Draco! You up?" they both knocked at once. A shuffling sound emerged from behind the closed door before it opened to reveal a sleepy, dishevelled, half naked Malfoy in the doorway.

"Mate, we going to Hogsmeade or what?" Zabini finally had found his voice.

"Fuck, what time is it?" Draco drawled, his voice heavily accented by his drowsiness.

"Nine, Everyone is leaving in fifteen minutes," Nott added. "Nice decorating skills by the way," he snickered.

"Don't mention it. I'm gonna kill Granger," he growled. That seemed to wake him up.

"I can hear you Malfoy," Hermione called out from her beanbag.

"Granger, it's too early to talk to you," he snapped back. She could hear Zabini clear his throat which made her turn her head to look in their direction. Draco was staring at her strangely, a sly look on his face as he had stepped out of his doorway. She was slightly taken aback by his bare torso, and glared at him for his lack of proprietary. He really was arrogance impersonated and it was too early for a staring contest. She shifted her attention to the portrait hole, wondering where the hell Dean was. Speak of the devil, a few moments later he stuck his head through the doorway, his face widening into a flashy smile as he caught her presence.

"Hermione! How you going? Ready to go?" He walked in looking every bit the attractive bad boy in his leather jacket, and jean clad self, topped off with a pair of ray bans resting on his head. His attention shifted to the Slytherins and his smile faded instantly. She shifted to stand. This was interesting. Malfoy and his entourage on one side, and, Gryffindor muggle Dean on the other, both now staring at her upright self.

"Wow, Hermione, you look great!" Dean exclaimed. She could see his eyes had lit up with a look that was foreign to her. She made a mental note to thank the girls later.

"Thanks, she mumbled apprehensively, not feeling very comfortable by compliments on appearance. Hermione could handle credit to her intellect but the former type was rather foreign to her. She turned to the Slytherins, waiting for a snide remark. Malfoy's eyes were on her chest, Nott was smirking, and Zabini looked dazed, like he had been stunned. She scolded herself for her see through shirt. Stupid Malfoy staring at her like that was not the result she was trying to achieve. She harrumphed at them and turned to walk toward Dean who had her attention once again.

"Like what you've done to the place," Dean said as they moved to exit the portrait hole. Her spirits were once again lifted, "It was Malfoy's idea." She caught the snicker and the sneer from behind her as they walked out, laughing.

* * *

Hermione's first date in Hogsmeade was going rather successfully as her and Dean sat in The Three Broomsticks sipping on a butterbeer chatting like it was any other day. They had spent the morning shopping about, enjoying the end of the warmer weather. Dean was every part the gentleman that she expected, although she did catch him staring at her rather intensely occasionally, when he thought she wasn't looking. The topic of Malfoy came up as they saw him enter with the rest of the rat pack. They were such a raucous bunch, acting like they owned the place which only made her grimace openly.

"It never ceases to amaze me how on earth he managed to secure the most responsible position in the school," Dean commented.

"It's beyond me," Hermione added. "It's not like he earns his grades honestly. Surely the professors can see through that."

"I like your cheeky change to the common room though," he winked at her.

"I am rather proud of it. You should see how pissed he was. Still is." Yes, Hermione certainly was patting herself on the back. Dean leaned over and grabbed her hand, much to her surprise.

"Hermione, you are amazing, you know that?" he leaned over and whispered in her ear, squeezing her hand gently. Her body shivered in reaction at his breath on her ear. She turned to look at him; his face was millimetres from hers, his dark eyes twinkled suggestively. He leaned closer and her eyes fell to his lips. Her heart began to race in anticipation, in fear, and she could feel her body betray her as her cheeks warmed. His lips formed into a smile at her reaction, she was nervous.

Before she could register, he had pressed his lips to hers, in an inviting kiss. Her mouth opened in surprise and suddenly she felt the slip of his tongue which sent a shock through her, as she instantly pulled away in surprise.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled at her retreat. She was embarrassed that she had reacted like that, her inexperience obvious.

"No, it's okay. I'm just not used to public affection," she lied. She wasn't used to any such affection. Hermione pulled her hand away and took a swig of her beer. As her head fell back her eyes averted to the table of the rat pack. Malfoy was staring at her, a devious smirk on his face. She choked on the contents in her mouth, coughing involuntarily as it went down the wrong pipe.

"Hermione, you okay?" Dean asked worriedly, his hand circling over her back soothingly.

"Yes -," she continued coughing, "- wrong pipe," she gestured as her eyes watered.

"Want me to get you anything?" She shook her head, clearing her throat of the last of the offending liquid.

"I'm fine," she smiled reassuringly. Dean seemed relieved and it seemed to extinguish the awkwardness after the kiss. She avoided looking at the culprit of her choking fit for the rest of the afternoon.

Everything had caught her off guard that afternoon. She went back to her common room feeling rather confused. Her date ended well, and despite the surprise eagerness of his kiss, she liked Dean all the more at the end of it.

"So, how'd the date go, Hermione?" Harry nudged at the dinner table that same evening. He was fishing for information. Hermione looked over to Dean at the other end who was busy chatting away with Seamus.

"Yeah, it was good," she replied.

"Just good?" Harry arched an eyebrow, fishing for more information. She could tell he wanted the dirt.

"Harry!" she admonished. He laughed as she blushed. Ron walked over and sat down next to her.

"So, Hermione, what's this I hear Lavender saw you kissing Dean in The Three Broomsticks?" he asked, a purposeful casualness to her tone. He knew she would be riled.

"Ron! Keep your voice down!" she seethed. Harry grinned.

"Thanks for clearing that up Ron," he managed between laughs.

"Anytime," Ron shrugged, grinning mischievously as he reached for the food. Hermione signed. If Lavender knew Dean had kissed her, then everyone did.

"So do you like him?" Ron asked between mouthfuls.

"Don't speak with your mouth open, Ron! And, I don't feel comfortable discussing this now," she clipped.

"Sorry," he grinned, his cheeks bloated from the food in his mouth. Hermione could not help but chuckle at the sight of him. He was too cute despite his lack of table manners.

* * *

Hermione spent Wednesday evening in her hideaway on the fourth floor. She had not make it a habit, otherwise Madame Pince and the rest of the school body who expected her to be in the library until closing would become suspicious. So, she settled on spending three nights a week there, and how glorious they were! She relied on Ron and Harry going to Quidditch practice to escape from the Gryffindor common room.

After finishing her homework, Hermione lay on the carpet, her back to the floor, as she flipped through one of the books of the room's private collection. It was from this particular book that had her attention, _Managing you Enemies,_ that she had obtained much strategic insight on how to manage the Head Boy. Being an amateur, it was a work in progress; she certainly had a lot to learn.

It was one thing to keep your enemies closer in theory, but in practice she could not stand the sight of him. If he had been made of stone, then perhaps his physicality, without expression, would make a lovely decorative statue, yet, as reality would have it, his permanent sneer, irreverent nature and magnified conceit distinguished any physical attributes that one might consider easy on the eye.

Her eyes were becoming heavy-lidded as signs of darkness permeated through the windows, and the moonlight crept in. Hermione placed her book down, sighing. Her mind wandered to Dean. They had been sitting together in the classes they shared, he had laughed at her quick remarks, and everyone was eyeing them like fresh meat, wanting to know what was going on. It was all happening rather quickly for her. While a part of her wanted to have a chance at a relationship, she could not help but rationalise the pros and cons. Yes, she liked Dean, but did she like him enough? She could not help but contain her schoolgirl giddiness, being new at this, yet she was not completely comfortable with it. She blamed it on nerves and packed her things to head back to the Head's quarters.

Checking the marauder's map to ensure the hallway was clear, Hermione slipped out of the room, looking both ways before setting off. She had developed a severe anxiety that her sanctuary would be discovered by another, for she still had not worked out how one came to find the room. She had done so in haste, and could not find a warranted explanation as to why she could see the doorway, and Malfoy could not. Hermione entered the portrait hole, hey eyes shocked by the bright colours. It happened every time, and she chuckled at her surprise.

"Laughing with your imaginary friend, Granger? That can't be a good sign." She looked over to see Malfoy, lazing comfortably on one of the beanbags, his robes sprawled out around him. The contrast really was laughable, and she could not help but continue.

"If you must know Malfoy, I was reminding myself of my splendid re-decorating skills. We should make a submission to Witches Home magazine, you can even be in the photo," she replied sardonically, catching her breath.

"I am actually really enjoying these sitting contraptions. I've discovered the benefits of the moulding effects," he retorted, his voice dripping with cynicism. Hermione's face involuntarily scrunched up in disgust.

"They're called bean bags, you prat!" she yelled. "And, they're a muggle invention!" she threw in for effect. His look of contempt was priceless. Malfoy had just admitted to liking a muggle device.

Recovering from his realisation, Malfoy switched back to his haughty grin, "Well, I'm sure tosser Dean will want to try it out. He certainly seems _eager_." He looked down at his nails before continuing, "But little Miss Prude is so scared of a little kiss, he might not get to have fun on the _bean bag_." Hermione glared at him.

"That's none of your business. Just because I am not some slag who will jump into the sack with anyone, does not make me a prude!" she gritted. Why was she having this conversation with him?

"The evidence is against you, Granger," he tilted his head and taunted. "But, maybe I'm wrong. You've been missing a lot lately, perhaps you _are_ fraternising with the wannabe bad boy. He should really leave that to the Slytherins, it's embarrassing how he tries."

"I really don't care what you think, Malfoy."

"Oh, but you will when you hear it through the grapevine, that you can't wait to pop your cherry with James Dean. I mean, kissing in public on a first date? That is a sure sign of being easy." Hermione was taken aback.

"You know who James Dean is?"

"Stay on topic, Granger," he scoffed with amusement. She narrowed her eyes, closing in on him, reaching for her wand. He saw her reach for her robe pocket and quickly armed himself with his wand. She pulled it out nonetheless, pointing it at his jugular.

"Malfoy, you really think that childish attempt at Chinese whispers will be believable?"

"Chinese whispers? What the fuck do the Chinese have to do with this?" he barked.

"Stay on topic, _Malfoy!_" she mocked. He stood up from the beanbag, with a bit of effort which made her smirk, towering over her as his fingers grasped her wand, pointing it away.

He leaned in, "Oh, but Granger, they will. Don't you know that everyone thrives on gossip? Especially about the Gryffindor prude that happens to be the Head Girl and the perfect example of a model student, virgin princess. And, it will be believable now that she has a _boyfriend._"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Oh, I see. You're just friends with benefits, then?" he quipped. Hermione could not believe she was privy to such a ridiculous conversation. She needed to shut him up.

"Malfoy, you start a rumour about me, I'll play your game and tell everyone that you're secretly in love with me but can't admit your feelings because you are too scared, but you love writing me poetry. I'm sure your rat pack friends will love your romantic side."

"Granger, Granger, Granger, you are such an amateur. No one in their right mind would ever think I would fall for you."

"Well, whether we put it to the test is entirely up to you," she threatened, knowing she was entering a devil's bargain. "I can play up to it. I am a great actress, you know," she added, turning to head to her room.

"Oh, but Granger," he raised his voice to match her pitch derisively. "I don't have as much to lose. Like my virginity, for example."

"I'm sure I'd weigh it on par with your reputation, Malfoy. An eye for an eye, isn't that what they say?" she chirped back, as she walked away. She would have loved to see the look on his face, as she slammed the door. It was the established sign of the end of their interactions.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Just a heads up that there is some dialogue on non-consensual stuff, but it is not explicit, and should not dampen the mood. **

* * *

Hermione sat in the potions class room, reading over the ingredients list for the class test. She was early. They would be making their own dreamless sleep potion. The classroom door swung open and Dean walked in, grinning as he noticed her.

"Hey, Hermione," he kissed her cheek as he sat down next to her. She liked his chaste kisses on her cheek. He had such a cheeky grin.

"Hi, Dean," she smiled back.

"I was thinking we could hang out tonight, seeing as though it's Friday, and all. What do you think?" Hermione considered his request. Malfoy would be patrolling, Harry and Ginny always spent Friday evenings together, and Ron was having some boys night.

"Yeah sounds good. Should we meet in the Gryffindor common room?" she asked.

"Hmmm, I was thinking maybe we could just play some wizards chess or something in your Head's common room. I am a little over the Gryffindor tower." Hermione blinked. Alone time with Dean, it would be nice, but she was unnerved by Malfoy's threats to spread rumours.

Her stubborn side reminded her that was an autonomous young woman and she could make her own decisions.

She nodded her agreement, "Why not," she replied more for her own benefit.

"Great, I'll bring refreshments," he whispered, winking. Hermione smiled bashfully. The classroom door opened again as students began filing into the classroom. Eyebrows rose at Dean and Hermione alone in the classroom looking cosy. Hermione could not help but blush. Zabini and Draco walked in before Dean could move to his designated table.

"Out of my seat Thomas, can't you two get enough of each other outside classroom hours?" he spat impatiently. Hermione looked up at him, surprised by his uncommon outburst that was usually left to Malfoy. He seemed remorseful when his eyes met with hers. Dean stood up, glaring.

"Lay off, Zabini. One would think you were jealous." Dean stated accusingly, his eyes distrusting. Hermione was baffled. Zabini and Draco snorted in an attempt to show their distaste.

"I'll see you later Dean, okay?" she reassured, grabbing his hand. He seemed to relax at that.

"Yeah, okay Hermione. See you at dinner," he retreated to his own desk. Hermione turned to look at Zabini, who was still standing. She sent him a quizzical look.

"Well, he's gone, you can sit," she snapped, frustrated.

"I'll sit when I damn well want to," he barked. Draco was smirking. Since when did these two reverse roles?

"Fine," she turned to her books. Zabini sat down instantly and remained silent. Draco turned around from his seat in front.

"Hey, Blaise, did you bring the potion?" he whispered. Hermione could hear them and looked up, raising an accusing eyebrow.

"Can I help you Granger, eaves dropping is a nasty vice. You should give it up," he retorted.

"Why would either of you need to bring a potion to _Potions?_" she demanded.

"Don't worry Hermione, it's Draco's," Blaise turned to her and stated, his face once again calm. Her eyes widened at his use of her first name. Draco seemed to have had the same reaction, eyeing his friend strangely.

"Keep your filthy little nose out of it, Granger. Blaise, why did you have to involve her? Just give it to me!" he ordered, his voice reflecting his unease. Blaise pulled out the sealed flask and passed it around the side of the table, discreetly, into the hands of his cheating friend. Hermione's thoughts cleared at the transaction.

"Malfoy, you cheat!" she gritted. "You are unbelievable!"

"Shut your mouth, Granger. You can't prove anything," his ice drawn eyes sent her a shooting glare before he turned around. Hermione looked over at Blaise expectantly. He ignored her, facing the front, shifting in his seat as he opened his notes. Snape entered the classroom and turned the hourglass, setting the time.

"If you have prepared, you know what we are doing today. So, I suggest you make a start," he stated contemptuously as he sat at his desk, sending death glares around the room. Hermione rushed to the ingredients cupboard first. The lesson proceeded quietly, Hermione and Blaise progressed well, and she occasionally looked over at Malfoy to see if he was preparing anything. To her surprise, he was well on his way to making the potion, correctly at that. She furrowed her brow in contemplation.

* * *

Dean and Hermione sat on bean bags across from each other, a chess board between them in the Head's common room. Hermione was quietly frustrated that Dean kept capturing her pieces. She really was no good at this game, unbeknownst to many.

"If I win in three moves, I get to kiss you," he winked suggestively.

"And, if you don't," she flirted. It had become quite a natural thing.

"Well, then…," he pretended to ponder deeply for a moment, "…you get to kiss me," he grinned, taking a sip of his butterbeer.

"Hmmm, and what if I don't want to kiss you?" she tilted her head with mock coyness.

"Well, I will just have to win then, won't I?" They played on, and surely, in three calculated moves, Dean had succeeded.

"Why do I get the feeling that this was all premeditated?" she questioned. Dean shifted the board to one side and in one swift move, had lifted Hermione off her beanbag and on to his lap.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he whispered, smiling, before leaning in and kissing her, his arms around her waist. She reacted to his touch, prepared this time, as she gently tested her movements on him, tilting her head slightly. Dean took this as a cue to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth against hers. She felt his tongue slide along her lips, she liked how it felt and opened her mouth enough so that their warm caverns connected. They remained exploring each other in this way for a few moments. Feeling her confidence boosting, she gently grazed her tongue over his bottom lip. Dean groaned appreciatively which only led her to be a little more adventurous as she let her tongue connect with his, a fierce wave of sensations spreading through her mouth. Hermione never expected kissing to be this good, her previous experience had left her thinking it was wet, sloppy and shocking. Dean deepened the kiss as his hand came to cup the side of her face, tilting her head to one side as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She revelled at the contact and moaned against him bringing her arms around his neck, as he drew her closer. They remained kissing, their first real kiss, for ages, their breathing loud as they tried to avoid breaking contact. It was inevitable though, as Dean broke away, kissing her jaw line, her neck, instead. Hermione's lips felt bee stung, they were tingling in the aftermath. Her heart raced as she reacted to his playful sucking on her neck.

"Hermione, you smell so good," Dean whispered between kisses. His hands moved across her stomach, and up over her breasts. Her breath hitched as they rested over one, before he brought his attention back to her mouth. It was becoming quite heated know, and as her body reacted, her mind was starting to rationalise what was happening. She moved his hands off her breast, that was a start, but they seemed to creep down and start to move underneath her top, coming into contact with her bare skin. This made her feel uneasy, as she broke away from him, breathless. "Dean, I think we should stop," she whispered.

"Hmmm? Ok," but his lips fell back on hers. She tried again, bringing her hand up onto his chest to push him away.

"No, really, I think we should stop," she reasoned.

"Come on, Hermione. You are so amazing; let me show you how I feel about you." His eyes were closed, but he sounded sincere, albeit slightly frustrated. She succumbed to his apparent earnestness, letting him kiss her again, and she responded with fervour enjoying the feeling once more. Caught in the moment, and revelling in the added sensations, she did not realise his hand had roamed under her top and was brushing over her thin satin clad nipples. How did she not notice? She could now feel him hardening against her, it make her mind switch to alert. This was getting out of hand! She pushed her hands against his chest to make him stop. He seemed to grip harder and his kiss became fiercer. She moved against him, innocent to how he would react, as he growled into her mouth. His reaction made her feel uneasy but her head was locked in place with his other hand and she could not move. Her sounds of protects were muffled and she was beginning to panic.

The next moment, she felt the contact break, as she was rolled off the bean bag onto the carpet. Before she saw what was going on, she heard it.

"Get off her you fuck! Can't you take a hint?" It was Malfoy, and he was growling. He had grabbed Dean by the shoulder, stretching his top to lift him onto his feet. They were pushing each other before Malfoy had grabbed him again and was dragging him toward the portrait hole. Hermione had never seen Malfoy look so angry.

"Malfoy!" she yelled. "Stop, you're hurting him!" He stopped dead in his tracks and let go of Dean instantly. He turned to look at her, a disgusted look on his face. Dean was on the floor, disorientated and annoyed. Hermione looked over at Dean. "Dean, I think you should go," she stated. She thought she saw guilt wash over his face as he nodded.

"Sorry, Hermione," he replied, walking out with his head down. Hermione could not believe what had just happened. She turned to Malfoy hesitantly; he was still glaring in disbelief. She looked down at herself; her top had been completely pushed up, showing her bra to Malfoy. She blushed as she sat up, pulling it down, readjusting herself. The silence was deafening. She sat on the floor, staring at the ground, embarrassed.

"Granger, you are unbelievable!" he interrupted. "He was about to assault you and you're yelling at me for hurting him? Fuck, Granger!" he yelled. Hermione felt close to tears.

"Why are you yelling at me? I get it, okay!" she cried. She was visibly shaking now, the shock of what had happened sinking in.

"Going by my experience, I thought you carried your wand at all times?" he queried, his voice back to a normal decibel but still sharp and snide.

"It's in my room. Figured I wouldn't need it while in my own common room." she sighed. Her lips were still swollen from all the kissing. She inwardly scolded herself, as her fingers touched them tentatively. She really was stupid. She looked up to see Malfoy smirking.

"Bean bags, Granger, they are bad news." Hermione stared for a moment before she burst out laughing. She could not believe Malfoy had just made a joke that was not directed at her. Shaking her head in disbelief, she could hear him chuckling too. She moved to get up, and felt his hand circle around her arm, lifting her to her feet with ease. She regarded him with curiosity before the silence became too awkward for them both as she openly fidgeted.

"Uhm, thanks," she said feebly. He nodded. They went their separate ways, her mind reeling over the preceding events.

* * *

A/N: A change of dynamics between Draco and Hermione? It is a sure sign, but it won't be that easy. Too many other things going on, it seems. :p


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Finally had a chance to work on this story! The plot thickens!

* * *

Hermione slept restlessly, to the point where her mind was anticipating the sunrise. Relieved that it was morning, she rose early and decided to relax in a warm bath before heading to breakfast. As the bubbles engulfed her, Hermione thought back to last night's events, wondering how far Dean would have pushed her if Malfoy hadn't shown up. To be relieved at Malfoy's presence was another issue altogether. She still hated him, but it was reassuring to know that his hate for her did not extend to the point of malevolence, where he would find the idea of her being assaulted amusing.

Hermione wasn't sure how she would face Dean after last night. His apology and apparent remorse made her feel less shaken, but the fact that he didn't listen to her wishes riled her. She should be angry, she decided, not feel guilty that she had done something wrong by asking him to stop. If only she had not bothered with boys and ignored her curiosity. She got out of the bath, dried and dressed, before heading out to the common room.

Looking over at the bean bags, they surprisingly didn't make her want to dry retch. They actually amused her. It was Malfoy's words that had stuck rather than the activities they had accommodated. She made her way out of the portrait hole shaking her with incredulity.

Hermione was relieved to see Harry and Ron at the breakfast table, wedging her self between them as a protective measure. "Hermione, lets head down to the lake for a walk after breakfast. We have a free period and for once I don't have to do some last minute homework," Harry suggested.

"Harry, I'd really love that."

"You're not sitting over with Dean today?" Ron asked. She looked up to see Dean sit at the opposite end of the table, his attention averted elsewhere.

"We don't have to hang out every minute of the day, Ron. It's not like we're going out or anything."

Ron raised an eyebrow, "I thought you two were official." Harry nodded, signalling the shared view.

"Everyone thinks you're his girlfriend," he added.

"We never even discussed it. Just because we've been hanging out a bit doesn't mean we are a couple." Ron shrugged in response, looking slightly relieved.

"Pancakes?" He passed the plate to her. She happily accepted.

Hermione could feel Dean staring at her, but every time she turned to glare at him, he quickly looked away. She just wanted to leave the table. "Harry, you finished?"

"Yeah, ready?" She nodded. "See you in Charms Ron, good luck finishing your two foot essay." He scrunched his face in distaste before waving them off.

They walked along the fringe of the forbidden forest, passing Hagrid's hut, which was empty as he was teaching. They reached the lake and sat on the face of the hill, looking out over the clear water, and the crisp sky above.

"So, how are things with Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"Really good. I was actually wondering if you and Dean want to go on a double date."

"Uhm, I'm not sure. I'll ask him," she could not bring herself to tell him, despite her initial plans. Creating animosity amongst Gryffindors was something she wanted to avoid, going by past experience with Harry.

"You're just oozing enthusiasm aren't you?" he joked, probably thinking that it was because of Ginny. Hermione and Ginny were friends by default and rarely volunteered to hang out with each other.

"Oh, it's not what you think Harry," she touched his shoulder in reassurance. "It's just, I don't where things with Dean and I are heading," she admitted.

"Second thoughts?"

"Something like that. I don't think I'm ready for all this dating business. It is rather distracting." She sighed. Harry tilted his head as he turned to regard her with amusement.

"Hermione, fun is not a distraction! It's okay to have social activities going on. I'm sure you can still manage with all your responsibilities and self-inflicting pressures," he grinned knowingly.

Hermione sent him a mocking glare. She knew Harry meant well, but for now he will just have to be in the dark about things. "Well, we'll see."

"That means, _no_."

"It might," she teased.

"That means, _yes_."

"Shut up, Harry!"

"That means, I'm right." She gave him a playful punch in the arm. He feigned pain as he grabbed his arm in an exaggerated gesture. The two lay back on the grass, passing the time with lazy chit chat as the morning sun had finally stretched to its peak brightness.

Hermione sat up, the sun hitting her face. "I think we should head back. I'm sure its almost time for class. What do you have?"

"Defence."

"I'm headed to Arithmancy. I'll see you guys at lunch then?"

"You're not spending it with Dean?"

"I guess not," she said resolutely. Harry shrugged and stood up, brushing the grass off him. He held out a hand to help Hermione up. "Thanks." They made their way back to the castle, Harry leaving her at her common room entrance before heading off to collect his own books.

Hermione entered the portrait hole, and headed through the passageway into her festive common room. Malfoy was on one of the bean bags, writing frantically on the piece of parchment which rested on a thick open book. He had ink everywhere. She stood watching him, relishing in his comical appearance.

"Granger is there a problem?" he blurted without looking up, or breaking away from his writing.

"No, no problem," she answered with honey suckled sarcasm. He looked up at her briefly before he dipped his quill in the ink jar beside him, carelessly allowing it to drip everywhere. She narrowed her eyes at his recklessness. "I hope you're going to clean that up!"

"Granger, I don't have time for your reprimands. I have about ten minutes to write another foot so, get lost!" he thundered, before calmly returning back to his work. Hermione was startled at his interchangeable behaviour. She turned in the direction of her bedroom and went to collect her things. When she returned, he was still in frenzied state, scribbling away, but his parchment had actually grown in length. She marvelled at how he could have written so much since she had entered the common room. Hermione stopped at the portrait hole, looking back at him momentarily before making her way to Arithmancy.

OOO

It was not until Hermione was walking toward the Great Hall for lunch that she ran into Dean. He had sought her out, it seemed.

"Hermione!" he called out from behind. She decided to stop and acknowledge him but her face was blank. He rushed up to her. "Can we talk? Please?" His pleading demeanour washed away his cheeky bad boy image instantly. She found it rather unappealing.

"I don't think there's much to say."

"Well, I do want to say I'm sorry. I got carried away."

"Really? I would never have picked it." He stiffened at her response.

"I'm trying to apologise to you."

"I gathered as much." His eyes narrowed. She knew she was being unaccommodating but she was feeling rather indifferent towards his expression of remorse.

"Look, Hermione, I _really_ am sorry. I wasn't thinking straight, I didn't realise you really wanted me to stop."

"In _my_ defence, and I don't think I need one, I think I made it pretty clear, Dean" she said flatly. Students began to flood the hallway and Hermione did not want to be discussing this in public.

"OK, I was a selfish prat, it won't happen again. But, I just want you to know that I really like you, and I hope you haven't changed your mind about me." Hermione looked around her, glaring at those who were eyeing them and trying to eavesdrop on their exchange.

"I need some time to think." He nodded, his shoulders slumping. She walked through the doors of the Great Hall without looking back.

OOO

Exhausted from a long day, Hermione decided to visit her hideaway. She made her way down the corridor housing the entrance to her haven, but halted as she walked passed the unused classroom door which preceded her doorway. She could hear several muffled voices emanating from the classroom. Intrigued as to who might be occupying the unemployed room, she moved under the archway marking the entrance to the room and pressed an ear to the door, as she waved her wand to raise the volume of the drifting discussion.

"When will this next lot be ready?"

"Two days. Have you gone through the other stuff already?"

"No! What do you take me for? I just want to make sure I have stock."

"You can't keep doing this Draco. It's going to catch up with you."

"Quit worrying. It's just temporary."

"Maybe you should prioritise a bit more. This whole game is getting out of hand. Theo is becoming really competitive and word is spreading. I really don't know how you're managing your work load even with this stuff."

"You're one to talk! Why should I give up my leisurely activities? I've got it under control. Relax!" Hermione's curiosity was definitely getting the better of her as she tried to make sense of what Zabini and Malfoy were talking about. She wondered why they had not put up a silencing charm but then again, this particular hallway hardly attracted any traffic.

"I've stopped," she heard Zabini announce.

"What?"

"I really don't care anymore. It's just some stupid game."

"There's more to this sudden change of mind isn't there? As if _you_, Blaise Zabini, wouldn't want to participate? You're running streak is evidence of that!"

"I won't say it wasn't fun, but it's lost it appeal."

"Riiight. Well, I have patrols with a hot Ravenclaw chick that I just can't miss."

"Killing two birds with one stone?"

"You could say that. Don't forget to put up the charms before you leave." Hermione could hear footsteps approaching the door. She quickly moved away and rushed to the entrance of her hideaway, slipping in just as she heard Malfoy open the door of the classroom. She hastily turned around and quietly closed her door, resting against it as she tried to control the adrenaline rush. She wondered what those Slytherin prats were up to now.

It almost sounded illegal.

Malfoy's fading footsteps signalled her relief as she exhaled loudly into the room.

Hermione could not stop herself from considering how to go about discovering what they were up to. She could straight up confront Zabini now that he was all alone in the classroom but, there was the issue of facing a hostile and angry Slytherin. She could wait until he left and sneak in but, she would probably need to exercise caution on any intruder alerts. And, it might take a bit of work to remove the charms they had placed on whatever they were hiding. Or, alternatively, knowing that Malfoy was off on patrols, she could search his room.

She snuck back out into the corridor, casting a silencing charm on herself as she made her way past the classroom door and headed back to her the head common room. It was eerily quiet. Hesitantly, Hermione walked over to the doorway of Malfoy's bedroom face with a small dilemma. She had not considered the fact that like her, he probably had a password. She waved her wand to test the theory. As expected, _alohamora_ was not going to cut it.

To delve in to the psyche of a Malfoy and guess his password was worrisome enough. She opted for the more obvious options to start with.

"Salazaar."

"Slytherin rules."

"King of Slytherin."

"Slytherin Prince."

"Snake's den."

"I love Slyherin!" Nothing. So, it was not house related or any narcissistic house references. She pondered on alternatives. That last one was a far cry.

"Seeker's abode."

"Quidditch."

"Mudblood?" She was relieved that it wasn't that!

"Pumpkin Juice."

"Firebolt."

"Dragon."

"Malfoy's room?" She was getting frustrated now. "Come on!" Hermione sunk down, leaning against the Head boy's bedroom door, feeling rather aggravated at the lack of simplicity in the execution of the most straightforward option available. "What the hell are you prats up to?"

Reluctantly, Hermione headed to her room, lying on her bed to ponder alternatives. Clearly, there was no time for homework. After about five minutes of fruitless attempts, her only resolution was to try and get it out of Zabini himself, or keep watch on Malfoy and catch him saying his password. She fell asleep, dreaming of long corridors, and forbidden doorways.

* * *

A/N: Hmmmm...:p


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Had to get what was in my head down before I forgot! So a very quick update for your enjoyment!

* * *

As the week progressed, Hermione felt increasingly drawn to seeking out the Slytherin rat pack rather than avoiding them. The irony of it, however, was that they were less interested in taunting her. Malfoy appeared distracted, and noticeably aloof, Zabini was unusually quiet around her, Crabbe and Goyle occasionally took one for the team and shot her an insult now and then, while Nott was exhibiting enough cockiness for the collective. She was left feeling rather befuddled when he shot her a suggestive wink as she past them on her way to lunch one afternoon. Her reaction was to simply shoot him her most sinister glare, to which he actually had the nerve to respond, "Love your work Granger." Her glowering had only deepened, eliciting a laugh from him as they walked by. Zabini had looked at Nott and then back to her questioningly but had said nothing.

In the meantime, Hermione had also taken to spending a lot of time in the jovial surroundings of her head's common room, which after a while left her feeling rather startled. She had moved her bean bag closer to Malfoy's bedroom door, tactfully shifting all the furniture with her so she did not look out of place, often scheduling her occupation of said bean bag with Malfoy's expected entrances and departures. So far, she had not managed to find out his password.

Her pensive demeanour had attracted the attention of Harry and Ron as they questioned her sanity.

"Hermione, do you ever stop thinking? What could possibly be so enthralling?" Harry joked as she almost walked into a pillar in the quadrangle.

"I'll tell you when I know more." That shut him up as he raised a brow in interest. She merely smiled sweetly before returning to her thoughts.

It was an entirely different matter when it came to Dean though. He was practically stalking her now which also explained the extended length of time she committed to hanging out in the Head digs. Yet, further action was required.

* * *

Friday finally came around and Hermione had not advanced in her investigative endeavours. Looking at the schedule for the evening's patrols, Hermione could see that Malfoy would be patrolling that night with Ravenclaw prefect, Lisa Turpin. She could not put a face to the name, despite meeting with prefects once a month.

"That must be the 'hot Ravenclaw chick'," she reflected aloud before realising she had spoken it rather than thought it. Hermione went to the Raveclaw dorms to seek her out. She ran into Terry Boot on the way.

"Hey Terry!" she called out. He turned and waved.

"Hi Hermione! What brings you down this end of the castle?"

"Do you know where I might find Lisa?"

"Lisa Turpin?"

"Yeah."

"Uh, she usually has Quidditch practice until - ," he looked down at his watch, "she should be finishing up, actually. She'll probably be on her way up soon."

"Great. Can you let her know I'm looking for her and to meet me in the library?"

"Sure."

"Thanks! See you at the game tomorrow?"

"Gryffindor-Ravenclaw. Wouldn't miss it. I think we've got this one in the bag."

"You never know Terry. What, with Harry being our seeker, and all." Terry chuckled.

"Nice try at challenging me to a discussion on the finer points, Hermione. It's all about how they fair on the day." Hermione smiled.

"You know me well Terry. See ya!" She sent him a wave overhead as she turned toward the direction of the library.

* * *

Hermione sat in her favourite study spot, which these days appeared reserved for her use only. It seemed that her prolonged occupation at this particular desk had inadvertently created the understanding amongst the student body that it was for the 'Head Girl's use only'. Hermione, on the one hand, was somewhat embarrassed by the implications behind having a reserved spot in the library to her reputation but, on the plus side, it certainly had its perks. She made herself comfortable and set to work on her scheduled hour of pre-weekend homework where she consolidated this week's class notes.

"You wanted to see me?" Hermione's absorbed attention was broken by the sharp voice of her intruder. She looked up into the startling violet eyes of the girl she guessed was Lisa Turpin. There was no doubt that Malfoy's description of her was to the tee. This girl was 'hot'. She suddenly felt intimidated by the tall, raven haired girl with the perfect pout.

"Uh, Hi Lisa." Hermione did the only thing she could think of and gestured for Lisa to sit down. She obliged. "So how is everything going?" she asked. It was such obvious small talk.

"Good, I guess," Lisa shrugged, her Ravenclaw mind trying to deduce the point of this meeting. Hermione had finally come to her senses and pulled out the patrols roster.

"So, I notice you have patrols on a Friday night, and Quidditch practice. How are you managing?" she said in her best tone of authority.

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal." Lisa shrugged in such a way that she oozed elegance. It was a dance move rather than a sign of indifference.

"What about the game tomorrow? Do you want some time to relax tonight? I can relieve you if you like?"

"Uhm, thanks. I don't mind. _Really_." Hermione inwardly laughed. They were all the same. She looked back at her roster. Malfoy conveniently always patrolled with a girl.

"I do have a responsibility to make sure this roster is properly managed. I don't want your house mates coming to me complaining of sabotage on their quidditch team members." Lisa tilted her head in thought for a moment.

"I guess. There's always next week's patrol," she reflected more for her own benefit.

"Exactly, am sure you just want to veg out before the big game tomorrow."

"Well, there is a little pre-game gathering going on tonight, so I should probably be there with the team."

"Glad I could help you out."

"So, will you be doing patrols with Draco then?" she raised an eyebrow curiously. Everyone knew about their distaste at spending alone time with each other patrolling.

"Duty comes first." Lisa scrutinised her as she stood up.

"Well, good luck," she offered reluctantly. Hermione could only nod. Luck had nothing to do with it. Her eyes trailed after the Ravenclaw bombshell, her shiny hair keeping Hermione's attentions as it swayed out of her line of sight. "Probably brushes her hair one hundred times a day!" she muttered enviously as she packed her things and headed back to her room to give Malfoy the good news. She was looking forward to his reaction.

* * *

Hermione was in the bath when she heard her name being called out.

"Granger!" It could only be one person. She closed her eyes trying to shut out the noise but the incessant banging on her bedroom door was not helping her cause.

"Oi, Granger! What the hell is with you re-arranging my patrols!" he was screaming through the door.

"Stop yelling through the door!" she screamed back.

"Get out here then!"

"I'm in the bath!" she reluctantly divulged at the top of her lungs, annoyed at the interruption.

"So!" she could hear amusement in his voice.

"So? Wait!" She unenthusiastically rose from the warm water, and reached for a towel, wrapping it around her. It was a good thing she hadn't washed her hair.

"Granger!"

"Malfoy!" she yelled through the door as she walked into her bedroom. He was relentless!

Without thinking, she walked over and opened the door fully in her towel clad self.

"Fucking hell, Malfoy! Have you not heard of common courtesy? Locked door means no interruptions!" she shouted. He was just staring at her, or her chest more like it. She shrieked, and moved to close the door to cover herself, allowing only her head to remain visible. His well practised smirk presented itself.

"Feisty," he observed.

"Oh, shut-up! What do you expect when you ruin one's plans?"

"Well, you seem to know how to do that rather well. What the fuck are you doing changing my patrol partners? That schedule is agreed on monthly and, as far as I'm concerned, it's _not_ negotiable," he barked.

"Well, if you must know. Lisa has a game on tomorrow and I don't want her housemates coming to me complaining that prefect duties have been so scheduled as to impede on their team member's performance on the pitch. So forgive me for being considerate."

"Whatever, Granger. If she thought it was going to be an issue she would have just told me she wasn't going to turn up and I would have just found someone else. Why do you have to stick you nose in everything?"

Hermione signed, looking down at herself in only a barely there towel. She needed to change.

"Just let me change and then we can discuss this all you like!" She slammed the door in his face. He retaliated by banging against it. Pulling on the first thing she could find, Hermione emerged from her room wearing Lavender's jeans and a tank top, holding her zip up jacket in her hand. Malfoy had sunk himself into a bean bag, his tie hanging undone around his neck, his robes thrown to the side on the floor.

"Look Malfoy, it's no big deal. I took some initiative as Head Girl, that's all." He ruffled his hair in frustration.

"Granger, stop throwing that crap at me. I know all about your conscientious efforts." She looked at him alarmed. There was clearly something else being implied here. His smirk was a sure giveaway.

"Malfoy, if you are going to be cryptic with me, then something is seriously wrong here." He cocked his head to one side, shrugging. She scowled back. "Well?" she tapped her foot and crossed her arms expectantly. He stood up, grabbing his robe, and walked away to his room. She glared at him from behind, and only caught the end of his password. It sounded like, "…horntail". Her annoyance instantly faltered as she smiled knowingly.

Malfoy walked into his room, leaving the door open much to her surprise. She stood there, waiting to see whether he was going to come out and hit her with some remark. She could hear a rustling of things which stopped before he emerged holding a flask.

"Ever heard of a magical footprint, Granger?" He asked threateningly, as he walked over to her. He was only a few feet away, his ice drawn eyes boring into her with spite. Her ignorance of where this conversation was headed triggered her defence mechanisms.

"What's that got to do with anything?" she snapped.

"Only, _everything_." He lifted the flask to her line of sight as he walked closer.

"Does this look familiar to you?" She recognised the flask as the one Zabini had handed to him in potions.

"Only because I saw Zabini give it to you in potions. What's you're point?" He was almost towering over her now.

"You're familiar with the fourth floor unused classroom, are you not?" She could not believe he was talking about the very topic that was occupying her time all week. She looked at him questioningly.

"Who doesn't?"

"Well, surprisingly it is rarely crossed by any students. Although, your behaviour when we previously had the pleasure of patrolling with each other suggested you were well acquainted with that particular corridor. Care to share why?"

"I don't see how that is any of your business!"

"As I am sure you know, since _I_ know _you_ know - "

"Quit babbling Malfoy, and get to the point!' Hermione was becoming agitated by his eerily calm tone. He undid the stopper and brought it under her nose. She caught a whiff of a nasty odour, almost sulfuric. She turned her head away automatically to escape the offensive smell. He chuckled, before taking a gulp, grimacing as he swallowed.

"As I was saying," he continued, brandishing the flask about, "this little concoction here is brewed in that fourth floor class room, and in exercising my _own_ due diligence, I set the rather useful charm to detect who exactly uses that particular hallway to keep tabs on any intruders."

Hermione's dropped her arms to her side as her eyes widened in realisation. He smirked at her reaction. "And, guess what the Head boy discovered, Granger?" he paused for effect even though she knew, that he knew, that she knew the answer. It was laughable really but, at this point in time, the air was rather stiff with seriousness. "Well, I'm sure you'd be interested to know that, that particular corridor is frequented most by our very own _Head_ _girl_."

Hermione took as step back, Malfoy was in her space. "Well your magical footprint is clearly set up wrong, Malfoy." He glared at her defiance.

"Doubt it, Granger. Nott set it up. He is a pro with charms. So, care to share why our Head girl loves to hang out in that part of the castle so often, and why the _fuck_ you are spying on me?"

Hermione knew it would amount to this. That Malfoy would take it to mean that she had been keeping tabs on them and knew what they were up to. After all, her safe haven was invisible to everyone but her. 'Crap!' she scolded herself.

"Malfoy, if you think I've been spying on you, then why is it that I don't know what the potion is, or that I was surprised when Zabini handed it over to you in potions?" She could see him thinking for a moment despite the fact that his look of accusation remained directed at her.

"If that is the case Granger, what the fuck is so exciting about that corridor that has you visiting it so often? And, why were you so bloody edgy when we patrolled there?"

"As, if I would tell you!" she retorted.

"Well, then clearly there is nothing to tell, because there is _nothing_ that could possibly lure you to hang out there. Unless, you and _Dean_ use it as a make out spot?"

She narrowed her eyes at that remark. "You know very well that is not the case." He just laughed, showing no empathy or recognition of the incident he had helped her in.

"Malfoy, I am going to try and bargain with you, for reasons beyond my own comprehension. But, lets just agree that I won't ask what you guys are making, or seek to find out, or tell a professor about it, if you don't ask me to answer any more questions. OK?"

He was silent for a moment. "On one condition."

"What?" she resigned.

"That you don't mess with my patrols schedule, and since I have the unfortunate pleasure of now having to patrol with _you _tonight, you have to drink some."

"That's two conditions! There is no way I am drinking that! I don't even know what it is. The fact that you prats made it worries me even more!" He merely stood there sneering.

"Actually Granger, the patrol schedule is the condition. The taste test is purely in retaliation of your conscientiousness," he drawled.

"You are unbelievable!"

"I get that a lot," She just glared at him in disgust as she grabbed the flask out of his hand. She shot him a final look of hate, just to get her point across that much more, before taking a gulp of the odious liquid.

* * *

A/N: The things one does to protect their secrets! Ah Hermione, what have you done! :p


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This chapter was much fun to write. I look forward to your thoughts. Enjoy!

* * *

Hermione stood before Malfoy, flask in hand, wondering why the hell she had not hexed the Head boy into oblivion. Her stomach churned at the presence of the foreign liquid as she anticipated the adverse affects. Malfoy just stood there, arms crossed, acting the part of a haughty prat for which he would certainly win acclaim for by the student body.

"How you feeling Granger?" he asked cockily.

"Fine!" she snapped, ignoring the pangs of discomfort that tickled her nerve endings.

"How do I even know you drank it?"

"Take a look at your empty flask, you idiot!" she shoved it in his face.

He merely shrugged. "Your look of contempt is reassuring enough."

"Are you going to tell me what it is then?" she yelled.

"Let it be a little test for you. While we patrol, you can ask me questions to which I will answer only _yes_ or _no_."

"Malfoy! This is ridiculous. What if I suffer from an allergic reaction or a severe side effect?"

"There are side effects, just not sure about all of them," he said, lifting a finger to his chin in mock reflection. Hermione was beginning to panic. What had she done? She was certain Malfoy could smell the fear seeping from her pores as she inwardly retreated in disdain. Her skin was beginning to perspire, her breath shortening.

"Malfoy, this is serious. I better go to the infirmary, I don't feel so good," she wavered.

"That is not an option, I'm afraid. You will probably be expelled for it," he stated frankly. "Feeling scared?" he piped snidely.

"Fuck you Malfoy!"

"You drank it Granger! I can't control your impulsive behaviour! Besides, your eyes are still focused aren't they? How many fingers?" he held up two with derision.

"Let's see how you like this impulse," Hermione marched over to him and did the only thing she could think of that would bring her a smidgen of release. She slapped him. The look of shock on his face was enough to momentarily bring a smile of satisfaction to fruition. His stone eyes narrowed into violent slits as he grabbed her offending hand tightly around the wrist, and led her to the portrait hole without saying a word. Hermione, too stunned for words, tried to pull away but his grip only tightened as she stammered to keep up with his determined lanky pace.

"Let me go!" she yelled.

"I don't think so, Granger. We have patrols to attend to." He pulled her through the portrait hole, eliciting a cry of discomfort from Hermione, as she was yanked out of the head digs, much to the disapproval of the knight in the portrait as he watched their interactions.

Hermione, distressed, and not to mention wandless for the first time in the presence of Malfoy, was not in a happy place. "Malfoy, I can't believe I am saying this, but will you _please _let go of my wrist!"

He abruptly stopped, causing Hermione to walk into his solid back, her head hitting his shoulder. "Ouch!" Malfoy turned to face her with his scornful, inflamed cheeked glare. He let go of his grip on her and she automatically began rubbing her wrist, trying to each the pressure of the reddened area.

"How do you suppose I patrol without a wand or my school robes Malfoy?" she snapped.

"Ever the model student," he mocked. "Forget that you have taken an illicit substance?"

Hermione looked around, ensuring they were not within reach of prying ears. She narrowed her eyes, recalling only moments ago her act of stupor.

"Funny how you suddenly aren't feeling unwell, isn't it Granger?"

It was true. Hermione felt nothing, other than a rather heightened sensory awareness. She was wide awake and ready to attack the swine. Malfoy was now leering at her knowingly as he leaned against an adjacent wall.

"Well off you go then. We can't have you disarmed and dangerous."

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" She had never been so brazen with her use of language but she felt undeniably antagonistic and in control. She turned and walked back to the common room to collect her wand and robes.

Malfoy had not moved from his designated spot. Leaning casually against the wall, looking rather pensive, yet his eyes maintained a calculated alertness. The contrast was unnerving. He turned sharply to face her as she approached.

"I thought you were making yourself all pretty for me. Took long enough!" Hermione could not help but snort at his remark as she placed her wand between her knees while she put on her robes. He regarded her with amusement. Finally looking the part of Head Girl, Hermione grabbed her wand and looked over at Malfoy expectantly.

"Well? What are _you_ waiting for?"

He shrugged dramatically. "I just never thought I'd see you with a stick between your legs."

"Wow, Malfoy, you _are_ hilarious!"

"I get that a lot." He stood upright and closed in on her. "Now, Granger, let's clear up one thing incase you have forgotten. Never touch me again!"

"Perhaps you should lead by example so I will learn quicker?" she retorted. She was rather enjoying her new found callousness. She started walking down the hallway to the staircases. They would start on the ground floor and work their way up. She could hear Malfoy keeping pace effortlessly beside her.

"My, my, Granger has grown balls. I didn't realize the potion could cause physiological side effects. It must be your bad blood."

"Too bad, you really would have benefited from that particular side effect. Having Blaise do all your dirty work while you reap the benefits is _so_ typical." The next thing she knew, Hermione found herself against the cold blue stone wall, the movement was so swift she was startled to find herself staring into the determined stone eyes of the culprit.

"Ah, Ah, Ah, Malfoy, your rule, remember?" she reminded him with alarming confidence despite her feeble position. "Or, do you suffer from memory loss?" she tilted her head with spurious concern.

"Don't make presumptions you can't back up," he spat.

"I am feeling rather backed up now, if you don't mind me pointing that out." She stared back at him with challenging eyes. He regarded her silently, his face inches from her, his hands on her shoulders. She swiftly lifted her wand and jabbed it right in his gut.

Malfoy merely flinched in response. "Granger, it's not a sword, I would expect you to perhaps cast a hex on me rather than attempt to stab me with its blunt end."

"Thanks for the heads up Malfoy." She cast a wordless charm that had them twirling around so that Malfoy was now leaning against the wall, locked into position by the spell emanating from her wand. He had the audacity to smile.

"Like it rough eh, Granger? It's no wonder Thomas couldn't get a clue." She merely pushed the wand into his gut with a little more fervor, causing him to wince slightly yet still maintain his indifference.

"Hitting below the belt Malfoy? Is this all getting a bit too much for you? I mean, being forced up against a wall by the Head girl is rather damaging to your ego, is it not?" She could not believe what was coming out of her mouth. It was so…so malicious. His face instantly blanked and she thought she caught a glimpse of concern pass through his eyes.

Malfoy effortlessly pushed off the wall and gently moved her aside as he took her wand, grabbing her hand and leading her into a nearby classroom. Hermione was stumped by his concerned demeanor. Once inside, he led her to the teacher's desk.

"Sit."

"What?"

"Sit. Down."

"Why should I?" He didn't bother to respond, and instead lifted her up and sat her on the desk so that she was now at eye level with the upright prat. Too stunned for words, Hermione remained silent as he placed her wand down on the desk next to her, and then grabbed his own, muttering a spell she could not make out.

Hermione crossed her arms defiantly; impatient with his strange behaviour. He was oblivious to her glowering as he moved his wand over her.

"Is it just me or is it suddenly really warm in here?" She moved to take off her robes letting it fall against the desk as she sat on the length of it. It did not ease her body heat. She unzipped her jacket throwing it to the side in a flustered state. Malfoy was still concentrating on something as she looked down at her hands which were glowing red.

"What the hell?" she lifted her hands to inspect them closely, to establish that it was not the light that was playing tricks on her. No, they were definitely glowing. Hermione was beginning to perspire. She needed to get rid of more clothing. She moved to remove her tank top.

"Stop!" She looked at Malfoy who had finally seemed to register that she was in the process of removing the offending articles.

"Turn around then! I am fucking hot and need to cool down!" she snapped as she lifted her top up over her head, exposing her in all her glory. In her haste, Hermione had not put on a bra. She did not seem phased, just relieved to do anything to aid her desire to cool down.

"Shit, Granger!" Malfoy had spun around with his back to her. She could hear him swearing under his breath. She did not register his reaction as she slid off the desk and began to unbutton her jeans.

It did little to appease her state of flux or the redness of her glowing skin. She slid them off and kicked them aside, relieved at the greater surface area that could attract coolness. She signed in relief.

"Granger?" She had forgotten that Malfoy was still there. His voice was strained.

"What is it?" She snapped at the offending back. She was too hot to think or respond to anyone.

"You need to cast a cooling charm on yourself."

"What?" Hermione was unable to register what he was saying as she was rather pre-occupied with the fact that her temperature was well above normal range and the red glow surrounding her had deepened to a burgundy shade.

"Grab your wand on the desk and cast a cooling charm. NOW!" She reacted to his thundering demand and reached for her wand.

"Which one?" She was beginning to panic.

"A freezing one – _Glacio._" The urgency in his voice snapped her into action as she waved her wand over her head and cast the spell. The relief was instant as she felt a great wave of pressure lifting off her, and the perspiration on her skin evaporated. In any other scenario, this particular charm would have left her chattering her teeth, and the fact that she felt better for it was rather disconcerting. She looked at her hands, the glow had gone.

"Has the red glow gone?"

"Uh, yeah." Hermione said distractedly, as she registered that the only attire on her self was a pair of knickers. The realisation that Malfoy had seen her bare breasts made her cheeks burn with deep embarrasement. She turned and grabbed her robes, draping them over her and wrapping it tightly around her waist, holding it in place. "Uh, you can turn around now," she almost whispered.

Hermione could see Malfoy's shoulders stiffen as he debated whether to turn or not. Finally, he did, avoiding her gaze, and sat on a nearby desk in relief.

"I have never seen that happen," he finally blurted.

"You mean, that was a side effect?" He nodded. She clutched at her robes tightly for security.

"How did you know?"

He finally looked up at her. "I knew something was up from the way you reacted when I mentioned Thomas."

"Oh." She recalled her retorts. How did she have the nerve? "Well, I think I deserve to know what nearly killed me, Malfoy." He sat quietly.

"Malfoy!" she snapped.

"Look, Granger, I can't tell you the name but it's a rather unique potion in that it does whatever you want it to. It is like a placebo effect. I'm sure you've heard of that term," he offered reluctantly, his eyes focused on the wall behind her.

"Riiight, I'm supposed to believe that, am I?" Hermione thought it was an insult. "And, since when do you know what a _placebo_ effect is?"

Malfoy's eyes immediately averted back to her, narrowing. "Granger, I don't have to explain myself to you. Take it or leave it." Hermione immediately raised her wand and locked the door with an advanced spell that she had picked up from her private library. There was no way Malfoy was getting out of this so easily.

"What was that for?"

"We are not leaving until I am properly debriefed!"

"Debriefed? This is not a secret operation, Granger, get over it!" he thundered. He stood up off the desk and went over to the door, trying to unlock it with a string of ordinary spells.

"I'd stop trying Malfoy, only I know the unlocking spell." Hermione sat back up on the desk, still clutching her robes around her as her clothes were still scattered about. The situation was too disturbing. Locked in a room at will with Malfoy, having undressed in front of him, and now only covered by her school robes. She needed answers!

"Well? I don't want to be here all night Malfoy!"

"Granger, I have nothing else to say." He slid back against the door, sitting down with his knees bent, arms hanging over them and his head slumped over. That insufferable prat! Hermione would have to goad it out of him.

"Ok then, explain how it affected me if you don't want to talk about its chemical properties or general effects." He looked up at her, sitting on the desk a good distance from him.

"Fine. You panicked at the start thinking it was going to cause some physiological response, and it did. Right?"

She nodded, "You certainly helped with that!" Malfoy smirked, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Typical," Hermione muttered.

"Then in the hallway you were feeling rather alert and overconfident. I almost thought you were a Slytherin."

"That is also your fault. Why would I ever want to act like a _Slytherin!_" Hermione snapped.

"Granger, you loved it." It was her turn to smirk.

"Well, if you didn't drag me out into the hallway so violently, I wouldn't have felt the need to retaliate."

"You forget that I was retaliating against _you_, Granger. You slapped _me!"_

"Call it keeping up with old traditions," she shrugged.

"Careful, it's still in your system. You can re-activate it at any time over the next few hours so don't get carried away and incinerate yourself while I'm still locked in here with you. I don't what you stripping again."

Hermione looked down, feeling the uncontrollable rush of blood to her cheeks. "I warned you to turn around, Malfoy!"

"Didn't give me much opportunity to act all chivalrous, now did you?"

"That would not be a character trait I would use to describe you."

"You're so funny, Granger, I could say the same about you. I never thought I would label you as quite the exhibitionist."

"You keep talking about it like you don't want to forget it, Malfoy!" That made him shut up. He glared at her as he combed his fingers through his hair in irritation.

"Not like I haven't seen a naked woman before, Granger. Don't be too worried."

"Can we change the topic?"

"It's a bit hard to when your clothes are strewn all over the place!"

"Fine! Turn around so I can get changed."

"How about letting me out?"

"No! I haven't finished with you."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Oh, shut it! Turn around!" she demanded. Surprisingly, Malfoy stood up and walked to the back corner of the room, facing the wall as he leaned against the side. Hermione quickly put on her jeans, with her robes still wrapped around her, then in lightning speed, pulled on her tank top as the robes fell to the floor. She grabbed her jacket, zipping it up before putting her robes on once again.

"Ok, I'm done."

Malfoy turned around. "I don't know which took less time. You taking it off, or putting it back on."

"Leave it, Malfoy." He actually chuckled at this point rendering her speechless at the exchange. It had been the second time she had heard him laugh at their interactions. "Well, don't you have more explaining to do?"

"_Well_, Granger. Since when do you react to my taunts by pushing me against a wall and jabbing your wand into me?"

"You pushed me against a wall!"

"Exactly. The potion made you mimic me as a means to defend yourself. Usually, you are more inclined to throw a few smart remarks at me and slam doors in my face. Does it seem strange that you weren't fazed that I had backed you up against a wall?"

Hermione reflected for a moment. Yes, it was rather uncharacteristic of her. She had been initially frightened enough at the way he had dragged her out of the common room but that feeling had been quickly quashed.

"What triggers the reaction?"

"Any heightened emotional response, or a conscious desire for what you want to happen." Well, that explained it. Stupid Malfoy!

"You knew this and still provoked me?"

"Granger, you forget that I also took the potion. In my defense, one usually has an emotional response to being slapped!" he barked defiantly.

"Fine." Hermione harrumphed. "Is there anything I can do to minimize the effects?"

"Granger, does the word _placebo_ mean anything to you?" he quipped. She narrowed her eyes at his sarcasm.

"You throw that word at me one more time and I will hex you!"

"Granger, for your sake, control yourself," he drawled, walking over to the door. "Now, open this damn door so we can get patrols over with. This evening has been eventful enough and I have spent enough time _hanging out _with you against my will."

Hermione waved her wand to unlock the door, and slid down off the desk walking over to Malfoy. He pushed down the door handle and moved to open the door.

"Just one more question," she interrupted looking up at him questioningly.

"What now?"

"What do you seem to rely on it?" He turned to regard her momentarily, his fair hair falling over his thoughtful gaze.

He hesitated for a moment before retorting, "None of you business, Granger. I have kept my end of the bargain so keep your mouth shut about it. As far as I'm concerned, this never happened." With that he opened the door and strolled out leaving her behind to catch up. To think that even after all that had taken place this evening, they still had patrols to get through. What fun! Hermione made a mental note not to engage in actively re-arranging the schedule again.

Patrolling with Malfoy had proved enough trouble already.

Well, at least she had managed to find out his password – _Hungarian_ _Horntail_. Hermione smiled mischievously as she walked out of the classroom to meet the disgruntled head boy who had seen her naked.

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A/N: The amount of swine jokes going around is justifiable grounds for my mention of it. :p Has Hermione learnt her lesson not to meddle in Slytherin affairs? How affected is Draco at seeing the head girl naked? We shall see...


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I hope this brings you much amusement...hehehe! Thanks for your reviews! :p

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To say that Hermione Granger was baffled was an understatement. Ever since the most eventful night of patrolling school corridors, which involved illegal substance consumption, violent displays of emotional reaction, offensive language _and,_ nudity, not a single word had been exchanged between the Head boy and girl. That was one week ago.

The duo avoided each other like a double negative charge, except in the company of others. That was where things remained positive, in that they kept up with traditions. The first incident was a few days later when Hermione was making her way to the Great Hall for dinner, only to turn down the main hall at the same time as Malfoy and his goons. He looked at her threateningly, as if to say, 'I hope you're keeping mum on the potion situation,' before allowing Crabbe and Goyle to embark on the usual group tirade at mocking and mimicking the Head girl's enthusiastic classroom antics and reprimanding demeanor. In her defense, she awarded them each with detention. The powers that be were still in place, until they knocked her to the floor as they pushed in front of her to get through the doorway.

Malfoy had not even snickered as one would expect.

Potions was even worse. It appeared that Zabini had suddenly adopted the short tempered, angst ridden, don't look me in the eye sensitivity that had Hermione shaking her head in bewilderment. He would not even respond to Malfoy. Hermione guessed it was related to their extra curricular activities. It didn't bother her so much that he wouldn't look her in the eye when speaking to her, or that he constantly huffed when someone would interrupt them to ask Hermione something, it was more that he seemed rather edgy around her, especially when Malfoy was nearby.

That afternoon, Hermione reluctantly entered the potions classroom to find Dean sitting in her seat. That whole issue had not yet been resolved either.

"Hi Hermione, you got a few minutes to talk before class?" Hermione shrugged. She really hadn't given him much thought with all her other pre-occupations involving Slytherins. She walked over and sat down in Zabini's seat.

Dean looked nervous. "Uhm, so we're still friends right?"

"Yeah," she replied slightly amused by his approach. He seemed to relax a little.

"Cool, uhm, I mean, great," he stammered. "I just thought you wanted nothing to do with me since you never came back with an answer from the other week." Hermione recalled their conversation, something about him still liking her?

"I've just been busy, that's all. But, I think we should just be friends." She could tell his was disappointed. "For now, I mean," she added for no real reason. He nodded.

"So, a bunch of us are having an exploding snap night tonight in the Gryffindor common room, you should come along," he offered. Hermione smiled, she needed a break from the head digs, she had spent too much time there lately, following Malfoy, and avoiding Dean. It was a relief to be on speaking terms with him again.

"Count me in. Who else is playing?"

"We've got a big group together. Mostly seventh years."

"Sounds like it will be rather eventful," Hermione laughed.

Like a scene replayed, the classroom door swung open marking the entrance of the Head boy and Hermione's enigmatic potions partner.

"What do we have here? A lover's reunion?" Malfoy disrupted. "Tsk, tsk Granger, I didn't think you were so forgiving." Despite the snide remark, Hermione was somewhat relieved that he had finally spoken, albeit not directly at her.

"Shove off Malfoy," Dean retorted, feeling a little uncomfortable in front of the one guy who knew about what had transpired with Hermione.

"I recall I was doing the shoving, Dean. Now get out of my sight." Dean stood up defiantly. Hermione cringed at what could unfold.

"Hermione and I have sorted it out, no need for your input, Malfoy," he stated sternly.

"Sorted what out?" Zabini interrupted, thoroughly perplexed.

"Nothing!" Hermione shot, a little too hurriedly. Zabini turned to Malfoy expectantly for an answer.

"Malfoy, what are you talking about?"

"Dean and I had a little run in recently. Nothing worth discussing," he flippantly dismissed, looking to Hermione quickly before turning to sit in his seat. That was the end of that pending altercation.

Hermione signed in relief and stood up to sit in her seat. Dean gave her a reassuring nod and moved away to his designated spot while Zabini sat, confused and annoyed that Malfoy had not divulged details to his best friend. Hermione, meanwhile, wondered why Malfoy had not taken the opportunity to create a scene, and was rather thankful that he had not told anyone about what had happened with Dean, much to her surprise. Perhaps that signaled that he had not mentioned the other night and the incident with _that _potion.

No such luck. "So, Granger, I hear you had a little trip last week." Zabini said quietly. She turned to him wide eyed.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, you know what I'm talking about," he whispered, looking over at Malfoy who was absorbed in some last minute work to make sure he wasn't listening. Hermione fidgeted in her chair. "Do you have a class after this?" he asked.

"No, why?"

"I want to show you something." Hermione was indeed confounded by the sudden invite.

"What?"

"I can't talk about it here. Meet me on the fourth floor. You know where."

The class had not even commenced and Hermione was on edge. All lesson she rushed through the task and kept shooting questioning looks to Zabini hoping he would divulge details. The olive toned prat would not so much as stare her in the eye. As for Malfoy, Hermione sent death stares to his offending back just to ease her infuriation that he had told others about what had happened. She wondered who else knew. Yet, the Head boy, throughout the class did not speak a word to his house mate or to anyone else for that matter.

He was completely distracted by something.

* * *

Hermione stood outside the unused classroom on the fourth floor housing the extra curricular interests of the Slytherin rat pack. She guessed Malfoy had the charm activated which would notify him of her presence. It was the first time since _that_ night, and she hoped he would not ask questions as per their agreement for her sampling the potion in the first place. She was a little unnerved at being alone with Zabini, he was just acting too strange around her lately.

The interruption of footsteps echoing through the hallways signaled his arrival as he turned the corner.

"Hey," she said hesitantly. He nodded as he approached the doorway where she was standing. "Uh, Blaise," she stated, feeling the need to address him by his first name, "Are you sure you want me to see whatever it is you have in there?" He smirked, whispering an incantation to remove whatever wards they had set up.

"Don't fret, Granger, it's not as bad as you think." The door unlocked and he gestured for her to enter. She did so, warily. The room was empty, save for a collection of dusty tables.

"Uh, what exactly am I supposed to be looking at?" she asked.

"Before I show you anything, _Hermione_, you need to swear that you won't tell anyone, especially Malfoy." Hermione, stunned at his address, and request, turned to face him.

"Why are you showing me this? What's up with you and Malfoy, anyway?"

"No more questions." Hermione signed. "You Slytherins and your secrets!" she muttered exasperatedly.

"What other secrets?" he questioned. He was a cunning one. She figured he knew most of the details of the other night, except for the finer points, like her nakedness, or at least she hoped. She cringed at the recollection. Ugh!

"Malfoy would not explain why he was taking this potion. It took a bit of effort for him to even tell me what it did. And, that was _after_ I nearly fried to death!" she exclaimed disgruntled. She found it rather strange to be talking about Malfoy with his best friend, in an abandoned classroom, which housed their group project.

"Probably a good thing you don't know, Granger." He had averted back to surname addresses. Hermione's curiosity only grew at that comment.

"Well, it sounds like he uses it often. If the side effects I experienced are anything to go by, shouldn't he be worried about long term effects?" Zabini smirked.

"Concerned about Malfoy's well being are we, Granger?"

"No! It just seems stupid."

"Not everyone is like you Hermione. People don't always think everything through." He was back to his use of first names.

"Who says I do?" She recalled her situation with Dean, and her reckless potion drinking.

"True, but most of the time you have everything under control," he asserted.

Hermione frowned at his observation. "That is hardly the case," she said dryly. He moved forward to the other side of the room without saying a word. No point arguing with him. He waved his wand to reveal an elaborate set up of cauldrons, ingredients, flasks and preparation utensils. Hermione was secretly impressed.

"Why did you really want to show me this Zabini?" He still had his back to her.

"Malfoy should have told you everything after what happened to you. You suffered a really bad side effect, none of us knew about it. Luckily, I was able to establish that it was that particular batch. Malfoy hasn't been the same since he took it though. I'm worried it's another type of side effect."

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "And, you think I can help? Why? What makes you think I want to?" The last was not true; her mind was reeling with inquiry.

"If it's going to be anyone, it has to be you."

"That still doesn't answer why?"

He turned to face her, looking flustered. His eyes had darkened and his expression mirrored that which Dean had shown that night in the common room. She stiffened with unease.

"Because. You're the most capable. And, you are great at potions, _and_ I like your company."

What? Hermione was flabbergasted. "Uhm, thanks." That familiar feeling of a flushed face crept up on her. She fidgeted with her hands. He seemed un-fazed by his comment, his bold azure eyes focused intently on her.

"So, err, where to from here?" she stammered. Inside she was scolding herself for acting so ridiculous.

"Maybe if I tell you about it, you can help research it. We kinda overlooked that part before making it."

"Figures. I need a name."

"_Etat_ _d'esprit_. It's of French origin. Draco took it from one of his dad's books."

"What a git." Zabini smirked. Hermione thought for a moment. "As Head girl, I have duty here to report any illegal activity. Malfoy informed me that this was an illegal potion."

"It's only illegal because of the dutch courage effect one can desire which could lead to disaster. Anyway, I thought you two had an agreement not to talk to any teachers about this?"

"We have an arrangement of sorts, but it's unrelated." Zabini's expression turned to a scowl. Hermione was of course on a bargaining rampage. "Unless…"

"I thought it might lead to this. Fine, I'll tell you why Draco is taking the potion." Hermione was treading muddy waters entering into more agreements with Slytherins. It was a nasty chain reaction that could potentially lead to disaster if the other, or anyone else, found out.

"Fine." Her inquiring mind had triumphed. Zabini smiled. He seemed rather pleased with himself.

"Great. Do you want to try some of the properly brewed batch?"

"No way!" Zabini laughed. It was a hearty chortle; one that Hermione could take a liking to hearing. "Well it is only polite to offer," he shrugged.

"Whatever," she retorted, half smiling. "So why does Malfoy take the potion?"

"To keep up with his studies. Too many extra curricular activities." Hermione instantly thought back to the time she had seen him in the common room, scratching away with his quill to parchment so intensely that he was dripping ink all over the place.

"Yeah, right! What kind of extra curricular duties would have him neglecting his school work?"

"Do you really want to know?" He raised an eyebrow at her skeptically. Of course she did. It couldn't be that absurd.

"Yes."

"I can't believe I agreed to tell you this but some of the guys have a sort of competition going." Hermione crossed her arms impatiently signaling for him to continue. "Well, it's kind of personal, but we are, well I _was_, challenging each other when it comes to the opposite sex." Hermione was confused. "You _know_," he goaded her to guess but she just stared back blankly. "Hooking up with girls, Granger," he finished.

Hermione's eyes widened in disgust, "That is just disgusting." He seemed unfazed by her expression. "And ridiculous." She laughed out loud. The fact that Malfoy needed a potion to keep up with his hectic lifestyle was just too much.

"Well, you wouldn't say so if the knew how much was at stake."

"It sounds like an ego trip to me."

"The winner is guaranteed a spot in the next tryouts for the quidditch team, Puddlemere United." Hermione almost choked on her own saliva before laughing out loud. It was always about quidditch.

"So does that mean you're out of the running?" she joked.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On where I rank at the end of the year." Hermione did not want to hear that. She shut her eyes in an attempt to rid herself of that bit of information.

Zabini just smirked. "That was a joke!" he added before laughing. "I have decided I want to pursue another career direction, so I don't really care about keeping tally. Besides, am a bit over hooking up with girls for that reason." He shrugged. Hermione could not help but feel a little awkward. It was weird discussing this with him.

"So why Paddlemere United?" she changed the subject.

"It's only the best."

"Of course," she muttered. "And what better way to prove your worthiness for such an opportunity," she retorted. "You Slytherins are unbelievable." Although, she didn't doubt that any other bunch of boys would not hesitate to challenge each other in the same way. She had not even considered whether or not girls would.

"Slytherins aren't the only one's involved, Granger," he replied curtly.

"What?" she furrowed her brow, puzzled.

"Forget it. It's not important." She could see his unease at mentioning too much. "Besides, this potion is an ancillary issue to that so it's irrelevant." Hermione was still processing his previous comment.

"What do you mean Slytherins aren't the only ones competing?"

"I mean exactly that!"

"Well, are you going to elaborate?"

"No."

"Then, you can kiss this whole idea of me assisting you with research goodbye!" she stated frankly.

"Granger, I have kept my end of the deal. You really don't want to know, anyway," he resigned, leaning against a dusty table. Hermione was not going to falter.

"Try me."

"Ask your boyfriend."

"I don't have one!"

"Well, who's come the closest?" he tilted his head condescendingly. Hermione pursed her lips together in realisation.

* * *

A/N: How will Hermione handle this bit of news? Is "research" with Zabini code word for something else? Poor distracted Malfoy, all he ever wanted was to play quidditch. LOL! How will Hermione handle his secret and help his nasty habit? :p


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I am having fun with this story, so much so, my other one has been temporarily neglected. It's in the works but this is just entertaining. Chapter 10 is deserving of reviews so please do! Thanks to all who have marked this story on their alerts. :p **

* * *

Hermione reclined on a bean bag staring up at the fan vaulted ceiling in a state of flux. She did not know what to believe anymore. Any notion of improbability or absurdity carried little significance. Despite the outlandish explanation from Zabini, a Slytherin, she held no doubt that it was fact. The only problem was, she found herself right in the middle of it. And, to think she would never have found out Dean's true intentions if a Slytherin had not pointed it out left her feeling rather sour.

Hermione lazily lifted her arm up to her line of sight to check her watch. It was time for dinner, she wasn't sure if she wanted to turn up. The portrait door suddenly flung open presenting a rather irate Head boy who steadfastly advanced towards his bedroom door. His jaw clenched, face flushed, he glanced at her dismissively before retreating to his room. Hermione wondered what that was all about. It seemed everyone had underlying issues these days. Decidedly, she figured she should clear out.

Standing up and straightening her uniform, her tie needed re-doing but she was in no mood to commit to the perfect windsor, and reluctantly managed a quick four-in-hand knot that would be easy to untie. She pulled her hair back with the elastic that was reserved around her wrist to rid herself of the fly away state of her hair that seemed to materialise at the end of a school day and leisurely made her way towards the portrait hole.

"Hold it, Granger." Hermione, shocked to hear Malfoy speak to her spun around with a new found alertness.

"What?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Me?" she mocked. He just glared right back at her. "Well?"

He seemed to consider whether to speak or not. "Did Zabini mention anything to you?" She wondered whether this was his roundabout way of drawing something out of her that he was already aware of.

"_Anything_ is a little _vague, _Malfoy. Could you be more specific?"

"Forget it." He flung past her and out the passageway before she could blink. Shrugging, Hermione made her way to dinner. Nothing was making sense anymore. Slytherins asking for her help and entrusting her with their secrets, Gryffindor's being involved in devious challenges, not to mention Malfoys saving her from nasty potion side effects.

"Hey guys", Hermione plunked herself next to Ron and reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice, filling her glass to the rim. "Anything interesting happen today?"

"If you'd consider Professor Binns taking a moment from his unforgiving scribing to answer Finnigan's question on the wizard crusade of 1066 then, yes, it was rather eventful. I am still trying to get over the fact the Finnigan even asked a question." Ron replied with no enthusiasm. He seemed really disinterested in discussing the day and his sarcastic tone made Hermione laugh. It felt good.

"Do you know anything about the exploding snap night going on in Gryffindor tower tonight?"

"Yeah, there's some big game going on apparently. You coming?" Hermione was intrigued.

"Who's hosting?" Ron simply shrugged. A wealth of information he was! She looked across the table at Harry, hoping he might bring more to the conversation. Ginny was whispering something in his ear. She almost blanched at the sight.

"Break it up you two!" Ron interjected, "I'm trying to eat!" For once, Hermione agreed with him wholeheartedly.

Ginny turned to face them, exasperated by the interruption, "Dean mentioned it to me this morning." At least she had been listening. Harry was off with the fairies. So Dean was up to something once again? She had a sneaking suspicion it was all interrelated. She needed to exact revenge on the newly dubbed prat.

Hermione looked up over at the Slytherin table. Zabini was seated away from the usual rat pack, absorbed in some book. As convenience would have it, he looked up and caught her gaze, raising an eyebrow questioningly and smirking slightly, as if to signal that he had something she would want to look at. Hermione turned away without further reflection. She looked over at Malfoy who was busy with some Slytherin girl. He really had no class. It pleased her on some level, however, to think that it was all for an ulterior motive and that she was not the only victim of it. Those Slytherins knew how to capture her curiosity, even if it the result was to make her feel ill.

Eating rather hastily, Hermione rose to her feet. "I'll see you in the Gryffindor tower shortly. Just need to check up on something in the library." The grunt emanating from Ron as acknowledgment sufficed as she turned away to seek some answers from her safe haven.

* * *

The fourth floor corridor held new meaning for Hermione as she walked passed the classroom, housing the Slytherin potions lab, to the selective doorway of her hideaway. She really needed to find a way to combat that magical footprint charm Nott had set up along here to avoid any further conflict with Malfoy. She would ask Zabini if he knew about it. Ironic how she had developed a new found reliance on him but, it could easily be justified by the fact that he was now an easy target for blackmail. And, as a Slytherin, he would never back down from any bargaining arrangement.

The door to her library clicked open and Hermione entered, instantly feeling at ease. First things first, she needed to know more about the potion's origins and what it did. The only thing was, Malfoy had apparently found it in one of his dad's books. The Malfoy library was sure to house some of the rarest of manuscripts and old texts. It would be something really obscure, of that she was certain.

Working on the premise that the potion had plagued her mind when she had stupidly taken it, Hermione reached for the volume she was yet to look at titled _Magical Enlightenment: Heightening your sensory perception._ It was a start. Hermione sat down at the desk, resting the large book on the table. She flipped it open to the index and scanned for _placebo_.

Nothing.

Hermione mentally berated herself. Of course _placebo_ wouldn't be in a magic text. It was a muggle term. She searched onward, running her finger over the reference terms hoping to find an association. She figured she'd start at 'A'.

_Accentuating aplomb._ Maybe.

_Auditory supremacy. _No.

_Barricading unwanted sensory reception. _No.

_Breaking the barriers of sensory range. _No. But, dog tagged.

_Capitalising on charms._ No.

_Combating wandless magic. Very _interesting.

_Discharging desires. _Huh?

_Dutch courage. _Her finger came to a halt. Zabini had mentioned something about this. "Page 244," she read and hurriedly found the page. The image in the introduction made her laugh. It was of a young man about her age on his broom trying to fly through a doorway guarded by a monstrous dragon which looked very much like a Hungarian horntail. It reminded her of Harry, who had certainly managed to outsmart such a dragon in fourth year on pure adrenaline alone. But, strangely enough, it also brought to mind Malfoy and his password. What a coincidence it was.

She began to read: "Often the psychological outcome of over consumption of fire whiskey, the term 'dutch courage' is used to describe the sudden wave of over confidence that combats any sense of rationale of the reasonable person. It has been the inspiration of many potions developed to mimic the phenomenon of invincibility, or self-serving mind set, but is often an identifiable side effect to numerous potions that now make up the catalogue of illegal substances. Most notably, the _etat d'esprit_, created in the 19th century by a secret society, which was leaked into the public by banished member _Albatros Mabruxy_ in an attempt to vilify the elitist stratagems of the society's intentions to infiltrate public bodies. He disappeared suddenly before a scheduled inquiry to identify the name of this society and its members."

Hermione paused. Leave it to those steely slytherins to choose an illegal and unstable potion to help their juvenile cause. She could not help recall her exhibitionist displays that had led her to strip in front of Malfoy without thinking twice. She shuddered at the lack of inhibition it incited.

Reading on, "The only record of the potion used on a mass level was the 1898 Quidditch World Cup where mass pandemonium broke loose after the English team lost to France when the French seeker, _Gerard Puiss,_ ended the game after only twenty minutes of play. Fifty people were arrested and a later inquiry found that they had all been under the influence of _d'etat esprit_."

Closing the book, Hermione had read enough to prompt further research in the library. Looking at her watch, dinner was now well over and she would be expected in the Gryffindor tower. Leaving the book at her desk, she stood up and walked to the doorway, opening it just enough to check that the hallway was clear, before stepping out and shutting it quietly behind her.

Hermione's paranoia was at an all time high, and she could not help her accelerated heart beat as she passed the formerly unused classroom. She stopped in front of the door, momentarily forgetting her social obligation, to evaluate whether or not she should check if anyone was in there. Hesitantly, she brought her hand up to the door, fist forming and knocked. She waited for a response. She knocked again, with more fervour.

Nothing.

Relieved that her stupidity did not yield any unfortunate confrontation she exhaled and walked away. She would wait for Zabini to mention something to her before she involved herself anymore.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room was abuzz with the after dinner zeal that had revived the students after a long day of tenuous classes. Hermione entered and made her way over to the regular spot that the seventh years occupied. It had a mixed vibe to it. A few of the girls were whispering animatedly and stealing glances at some of the guys, others were lazing about chatting absently, and couples were joined at the mouth, much to her distaste. She nudged Ron who was lying on the floor in front of the fire half asleep in his after dinner stupor.

"Oi!" he mumbled. Hermione laughed before sitting down on the floor next to him. He turned over to face her, his irritation passing upon realising it was her.

"Way to kill my zen state, Hermione!"

"Yeah, right." She scoffed. "Where's Harry?"

"Don't know; don't want to know. Ginny's vanished too." Hermione scrunched her face up at the thought.

"Forget I asked."

"Where'd you disappear to? Harry made me walk past the library so he can return a book and we didn't see you in there." Hermione's breath caught.

"We probably just missed each other, went back to my room to drip off some books. Sorry to hear you were forced into going to the library," she joked, trying to change the subject.

"My views are justified. I am sick of school work at the moment. Stupid NEWTS!" Hermione would normally be aghast at such a proclamation but said nothing; she was feeling the strain of it all as well.

"So when is this exploding snap kicking off?"

"Dunno," Ron replied as he sat up and scanned the room, spotting Dean at the other side. "Oi, Dean! We getting this show on the road, or what? I'm about to fall asleep here!" Hermione could not help but smile at his unabashed approach. Dean looked over at them spotting Hermione, instantly jumping off his seat to come over. Hermione desperately wanted to hex him.

"Hey Hermione," he greeted enthusiastically, completely ignoring Ron.

"Typical," she heard Ron mutter.

"Hi, Dean," she feigned enthusiasm right back. Inside, she wanted to trip him.

"So, are we playing cards, or should I call it a night?" Ron interjected.

"Yeah, not everyone is here yet though." Ron scowled, obviously in reference to Harry and Ginny's absence.

"Whatever," he dismissed before standing up and walking away. Hermione was rather annoyed at being left alone with Dean. Stupid Ron just couldn't clue on that she wasn't into him.

"So, how is quidditch going?" Hermione asked as she stood up too and walked over to a nearby couch.

Dean looked at her curiously. She was never one to discuss quidditch. "Yeah, pretty good. Harry has given us some killer play sequences for the next match against Slytherin."

"Should be a tough match," Hermione offered, "Malfoy's been training his team pretty hard. Seems like he and a few of his team mates are _really dedicated _to quidditch this year." She was leading a pathway to destruction. Only thing was, she couldn't tell whether it was hers or Dean's.

"Seems like you know a lot about the Slytherin team," he stated.

"You'd be surprised at what I know. Nothing gets past this Head girl." Dean flinched at her remark but he covered it with a flashy smile before sitting down next to her.

"So do you know which chasers Malfoy's included in the team line up?"

"I might," she smiled deceptively, knowing no such thing. She could probably find out though, if she engaged in Slytherin like behaviour.

Dean leaned in toward her. "Care to share a bit of this information to help your fellow Gryffindors or are you secretly rooting for the Slytherins?" he whispered for her ears only.

"I think the answer is pretty obvious, Dean," she responded inscrutably. Better to keep an air of mystery about it, she decided. He reached over and patted her knee, almost patronisingly.

"Hermione, rest assured the Gryffindors are the better players, don't worry too much about how the Slytherins are progressing." It would be easy to show animosity right now but, being the better person, Hermione smiled reassuringly.

"Don't mind me Dean. You should be focusing all your attention on the delivery. You don't want to be outdone by a bunch of Slytherins." She stood up and walked away to chat to the girls.

Harry and Ginny had finally made their presence known in the common room and a table was instantly conjured with a set up for cards. Dean called a few six and all the seventh years to attention, and Ron, finally relieved that they were getting somewhere, kicked all the younger students out of the common room with his abuse of prefect powers. Hermione was not impressed but it was after 11pm so it was a fair call. They begrudgingly cleared out.

"Ok, these are the rules," Dean spoke as everyone took a seat around the felt table. "This is not just any old game of exploding snap. It's got a bit more edge to it," he winked, shooting a passing glance at Hermione. She maintained her cool. If there was anyway she was going to succeed in her investigative and vengeful endeavours, she would have to participate. She sat next to Ron who was keeping his distance from the dishevelled Harry and Ginny. "Everyone has to pull in two galleons for the prize money. And, might I also add that whoever has the least amount of cards at the end of a round must also remove an item of clothing," he grinned. Hermione was stunned as murmurs of excitement surrounded her. Just Great.

"What the hell is this? Strip exploding snap?" Neville stated the obvious, feeling rather nervous.

"Exactly, but to loosen up –, " he bent under the table and retrieved a bottle of firewhiskey setting it in the centre of the table, "the loser also has to take a shot of this." Seamus was rubbing his hands with excitement and Lavender and Pavarti were giggling. Hermione rolled her eyes. But, as a responsible head girl, she would have to stay and make sure things didn't get out of control.

"One more thing," Dean started, "the winner of each hand gets to spin the bottle. It's ok Ron, you don't have to kiss your sister." Everyone laughed as Ron scowled at Dean. Hermione could not help but think this was a ploy for Dean to increase his hook up list.

"No one is kissing Ginny," Harry added.

"If I don't play then you don't." Ginny replied. Harry turned to her looking surprised. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, hands up if you want Harry and Ginny out of the game then." Dean directed. Everyone's hands went up. Harry and Ginny looked dejected.

"Fine, we'll both participate." Harry added reluctantly leaning back into his chair. Dean looked rather smug.

Dean shuffled the cards and dealt each of them a hand and they began to play. General chit chat overcame them as they moved around the table, the occasional small explosion of mini-fireworks going off as someone managed to match a card and take the pile. Hermione was fairing rather well, and at the end of the first round, Lavender was left with the most cards and Ron had the least.

"Just my luck," he muttered as he lifted his school jumper over his head and tossed it aside. Dean poured him a shot handed it to him. "Bottoms up," he shrugged and he gulped it down, his face scrunching up as it burned through his insides and settled in his stomach.

Lavender spun the bottle and once again Ron was the target. Any distaste on Ron's face from that first drink disappeared instantly. Hermione chuckled as Lavender stood up and walked over to him, firmly planting her lips on his. They had plenty of practice behind them, so it was no surprise that they were getting a little carried away.

"Ok, that's enough," Ginny spoke out. Everyone else sighed in relief as they pulled away from each other, Ron looking rather smug and Lavender smiling dreamily.

"Can we set some rules on this?" Harry said, looking rather disturbed at what kind of kissing Ginny might be doing.

"The two who have to kiss can decide on the rules." Dean said. Hermione figured that was a fair call.

They continued on, it was becoming increasingly entertaining after a few shots. Hermione had already lost twice, and had kissed Neville once. It was a shy kiss, so it had only lasted a few seconds and he was blushing afterward. Her senses were all warm from the fire whiskey and she still had most of her uniform on, less her tie, and for once glad that she had been wearing her school robes. Her eyes filled with mirth every time Harry spun and it conveniently landed on Ginny, leaving Ron in a state of disgust as they made out in front of him.

"C'mon guys," Ron whined. Hermione knew Harry was consciously letting that happen. Several rounds later and everyone was feeling the effects of the alcohol. Finally, Hermione won a round and spun the now almost empty bottle.

"Ooh, Dean!" Lavender squealed. Hermione felt her stomach drop in realisation that she would be kissing Dean again. It had crossed her mind, of course, but one can play such a game without kissing everyone, or anyone for that matter. Hermione stood up, stumbling slightly, as the others laughed. She knew this was her perfect chance to get back at Dean. Confidently, she walked over to Dean, grabbed his hand and lifted him off the chair.

"My rules are, I get to kiss you in the stairwell leading up to the dorm rooms."

Dean responded to her suggestive proposal and immediately stood up and followed her to the stairwell while the others sent out catcalls. 'Focus', Hermione reminded herself as they entered the darkness of the stairwell. Hermione turned around to face Dean, sending him her best flirtatious smile as she pushed the shirtless Gryffindor against the wall. A nearby torch lit up at their movements. Dean was grinning wolfishly at her. Hermione had never before touch the naked torso of a guy, it was rather fascinating as she ran her hands over his chest. He was stunned silent, looking dazed.

"I thought you wanted to be friends only," he whispered huskily.

"Well…in the spirit of the game…" she cut off suggestively. He gulped. She leaned forward and lightly let her lips brush over his, holding them there as she reached for her wand tucked into the back of her skirt. His hot breath against her did affect her senses and she leaned forward a little more, letting her lips press against his. She did not pull away when he finally responded, bringing his hand to her waist just as she grabbed her wand and brought it down by her side. She let herself kiss him back, it was good practice anyway, she figured, but that was the firewhiskey talking as she submitted to its effects. Her confidence levels were certainly up.

It dawned on her that the others would be counting the minutes that they would be missing and she forced her mind to clear of any superfluous desire as she raised her wand to point it at him and silently cast her intended spell. She let her lips linger over his for a moment before pulling away.

"I think we should go back before were have them wondering what else we're doing." she whispered, as she tucked her wand back into her skirt inconspicuously. He nodded, looking rather pleased with himself. Hermione let him lead her back into the common room, where the sound of wolf whistles greeted them. She smiled shyly, before sitting down.

Scheming aside, Hermione was able to enjoy the rest of the evening as she was reduced to wearing only a shirt and her school skirt, having removed, shoes and socks as items of clothing which caused a bit of rage amongst the boys. The girls had followed suit, managing to keep most of their clothing on. Ron was the unlucky one who had been reduced to his boxers, but being a typical boy, he was unaffected by his minimal clothing.

"If only I can walk around the common room like this all the time," he voiced. Dean had managed to kiss every girl except Ginny, but often sent shooting glances to Hermione, trying to catch her attention. She feigned ignorance, and even slipped Seamus some tongue when his spin landed on her. All in all, Hermione had succeeded with her plan and was very much inebriated. It was relieving to know that she could sleep in tomorrow.

Losing interest in the actual card playing, they finally decided to call it a night. She had no idea who had actually won the prize pool.

"You sure you can make it back to your room Hermione?" Ron slurred, his impressive keeper's chest overshadowing her.

"I'll be fine. It's not far. Night."

"Night." He leaned over and gave her a bear hug for amusement. He knew it would make her squirm.

"Ron!" she pushed him off laughing. He grinned before he turned away, sending her an idle wave. Lavender seemed to have caught his attentions. Before she could exit the portrait hole, Dean approached her.

"Hey," he prompted, "I'm glad things are okay between us."

"No sweat."

"Want me to walk you to your common room?"

"No, I'll be okay, thanks."

"Alright, night then." He hesitated momentarily before turning away. Finally, Hermione was free to leave, gathering her clothing in one hand, shoes in the other, she exited the portrait hole and made her way to the head digs, stopping every few hundred metres to regain her balance. She could not feel the cold of the hallways, the alcohol in her system seemed to numb her nerves, so much so, she was unable to register the ice chill sweeping through her bare feet and across her back.

Relieved when she reached the portrait hole, Hermione leant against the wall momentarily before standing in front of the knight who had lifted his visor to eye her curiously. She narrowed her eyes at his judgmental gaze and opened her mouth to mutter the password. Before she could speak the portrait had swung open to reveal a dishevelled Malfoy and his Slytherin companion. Shocked by the timing, Hermione's heart almost jumped out of her chest as she froze with fright, the cold air filling her lungs.

"Hello, Granger," Malfoy drawled, his eyes rather amused as they scanned over her hand held attire. Hermione glared at him before shooting an unimpressed look at the girl he had been making out with during dinner. She was the least bit troubled by being caught walking out of the head dorms at such a late hour.

"Out of my way," she managed to let out, brushing past him, and ignoring the girl as she stepped through the portrait hole, dumping her stuff on the couch. She did not hear Malfoy re-enter the room.

"Didn't think the head girl would ever drink firewhiskey," he commented. "Granger, you reek of the stuff." She swung around, a little to fast for her liking. The stars moving across the magenta and bottle blue carpet were not helping her cause.

"This isn't a halfway house for your trysts, Malfoy. Take them elsewhere," she grimaced.

"Looks like you've been doing just that," he retorted. Hermione huffed and went and sat herself on a bean bag. She was way too tired and chilled to the bone from walking half dressed in the uninviting corridors to engage in late night arguments with the prat in the room. She pulled her wand from behind her skirt, pointing it over her head as she muttered the spell to cure her of her dizziness. It wasn't as foul proof as a potion, but it would suffice. She looked up at Malfoy who was smirking at her furtively.

"Can I help you, Malfoy?"

"No, Granger,"

"Then, do you mind leaving the room?"

"I have just as much right to be here." He walked over, grabbing the bean bag near her, and placing it directly opposite her line of sight before plummeting into it, leaning back smirking.

Hermione was piqued. "I'm really not in the mood to talk to you, Malfoy."

"Don't be silly, Granger, we never talk." She glared at him.

"Aren't you tired, Malfoy, looks like you've had a busy night?"

"I could also say the same for you." His blasé demeanour was really grinding on her nerves.

"I'd really like to relax in front of the fire for a bit, so can you take your energy levels and divert them elsewhere?" Why was he hanging around when he had directed barely an insult to her over the last week? She narrowed her eyes in recognition. "You've taken your beloved potion, haven't you?"

He leaned forward, his eyes squaring with hers. "How can you tell?"

* * *

A/N: It is a bit of cliffy, I know, but too much had already taken place this chapter. Till next time! :p


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This chapter has much going on and a bit of a turn of events at the end. Oooh, read on for more! hehe Please Review! I was very pleased to get the most ever for one chapter last time. Thanks for reading, Yay! :p**

* * *

Hermione pointed her wand at him swiftly and gave it a short wave. It shone a bright green. "The wand never lies, Malfoy," she offered reluctantly. "And, it strikes me as rather odd that you would want to engage in idle late night exchanges with me when you haven't stringed two sentences in my direction all week!" she concluded, focusing her eyes on flickering flames as the radiating heat warmed her feet.

Malfoy sat silently for a moment, in an effort to dramatise his response. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Granger, why do you always have an answer for everything?"

"Is that a question, Malfoy?" He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I have question for you, Granger." Hermione ignored him.

"Why have you been drinking fireswhiskey?" She turned at looked at him blankly. Clearly, the friewhiskey was still in her system, she had never drank so much in her life, albeit the small total of four shots.

"I must have missed the memo which requires me to report back to you, Malfoy," she retorted.

"What memo?" he languidly drawled. "I think it's a perfectly reasonable query. It's not often, Granger, that the Head Girl is seen entering the head dorms, very well after curfew, with half her clothes in hand, and a man's drink on her breath, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione sighed with frustration. "Malfoy, as far as I'm concerned, we have a non-disclosure policy going on here. I never ask about your private affairs, other than my _repeated_ requests that you exercise some decorum, which seems to be rather difficult for you, so shove off!"

Draco laughed haughtily. "Decorum, Granger? That is really something!" He continued to laugh, once again mocking her.

Hermione glared back at him, her grip tightening around her wand. "And what effect is your _placebo_ having on _you_ this evening, Malfoy?" she snapped shakily.

He stopped laughing. Hermione stood up off the malleable bean bag, stepping forward, towering over the great prat in his seated form. It was a sight to behold. Hermione had not been this close to Malfoy since their unspeakable encounter involving one unstable potion. He looked up at her questioningly, egging her on. "Did you need it to get it up? What, with your busy schedule, and all?" She regretted saying it as soon as she saw the instant malice in his eyes. Her knuckles were white around her wand; it was almost her security now.

Malfoy's eyes diverted to her wand grasped hand at her movements. His reflexes were so quick she did not register his advancement until his strong grip encircled her wrist, pulling her down onto his lap. She fell against his chest, winded by his rock hard physique.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Granger?" He practically growled in her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine, of fear and of something foreign. Her heart rate reacted to the sensations.

"Malfoy, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" she fumed, her voice slightly edgy. His mood swings were unpredictable these days. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her in place as his other hand gripped her waist.

"Answering your question, Granger," his tone resolute. He leaned forward, nipping at her earlobe. Hermione, shocked at the contact, gasped, her body tensing in response. She was frozen in place, cornered by the feel of his tongue on her skin as he toyed with her, licking, and then sucking between her ear and jaw line.

Her mind clouding, her grip loosened on her wand, letting it fall silently against the soft psychedelic carpet. Her awareness closed in on his actions as Malfoy drew kisses along her jaw line, down to the nape of her neck. She unconsciously tilted her head away from him in response. Her breath hitched as he found her pulse point, sucking violently. She could not control her urge to lift her free hand to the back of his head, her fingertips clawing into his hair as she pulled him into her, letting out a small moan of pleasure as her whole body relaxed.

He stopped.

Clarity returned.

Horrified, they turned to look at each other. Her fingers instantly untangled from their hold on him, her hand dropping to her lap as his grip on her simultaneously loosened. He cleared his throat with unease as Hermione stared at her hands, neither registering that she was still sitting on his lap, as they were lost in their thoughts.

"Uhm, Granger?" his raspy voice broke the awkward silence.

"What?" she snapped her head up to look at him.

"Can you get off me?" She jumped off in realisation, glaring at him. He had the audacity to smirk.

"You asshole!" she shouted. "You're the one who put me there in the first place!"

"Well, if it wasn't for your incessant defiance, it would never have happened!"

"My what?"

"You brought it on yourself!" he thundered, back to his normal self, his eyes blaring with a rage that challenged all previous stares that she had received from him.

"You assaulted me and it's _my_ fault?" the incredulity in her voice apparent.

"Exactly!" he reasoned, nodding his head in a self-serving manner.

"Explain how that is possible?" Her hands were on her hips now. She could not believe her ears.

"You made me! And, how dare you say I assaulted you? I am not Thomas! If my memory serves me correct, you liked it!"

She gasped at the thought. "I did not!" she yelled fervently.

"Did too, and you have the mark on your neck to prove it!" he smirked victoriously.

Hermione lifted her hand to cover the telling spot on her neck as she ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. She fell onto her bed, her head slightly spinning; and let herself fall in to a tumultuous slumber to escape reality. Her wand lay forgotten on the common room floor.

* * *

Hermione awoke more exhausted than she had ever felt before. She did not want to move a muscle, yet her teeth were fury, she still had her uniform on and, she was parched. Slowly sitting up, the sun seeping through the windows hit her in the face head on. She lifted her hand in haste to shield her eyes. It had not even crossed her mind to shut the curtains. Burying her head in her hands, Hermione groaned aloud as the memory of last night returned. Strip exploding snap; spin the bottle; kissing Dean; the firewhiskey; and, Malfoy!

She groaned even louder. She did not even remember casting a spell on Dean, hopefully it had worked. Begrudgingly, she moved off her bed and headed to her bathroom, stripping her clothes off along the way. She was desperate for a shower.

She stood over the basin wrapped in her towel, brushing her teeth vigorously for about ten minutes. She had kissed more boys in one night than she ever had. The mirror finally cleared of its foggy state and her eyes widened in utter revulsion at her reflection which revealed the undeniable hickey on her neck.

She leaned in closer, to ensure that her eyes weren't deceiving her. Nope. It was definitely there. And, to top it off, it was Malfoy's doing. Hermione felt a dire need to hyperventilate.

"Relax," she spoke out loud for reassurance. "It's ok, nothing a glamour charm can't fix."

Her mind would not let go. "Malfoy!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, before stomping her foot in helplessness. How could she let this happen? How _did_ this happen? She mentally berated herself, seeking answers while searching for her wand. Hermione had no recollection of where she had put it.

Her room left upturned from her search, she finally gave up and dressed, strategically tying a silk scarf around her neck. It will have to do. Hermione decided she would spend her Saturday hiding away in the library, and if that became too much, her safe haven. She was reluctant to venture to the fourth floor on a Saturday though; it was most likely going to be occupied by one Slytherin, or another.

Grabbing her bag, she ventured into the common room for a quick search of her wand. Surely, she would have left it here somewhere. Looking over worriedly at Malfoy's door, she did not want to stick around long enough to increase the chances of a run in. Reluctantly, she accepted defeat and exited the portrait hole in a huff, hurrying in the direction of the Great Hall to grab a quick bite and much needed drink before seeking solace in the library.

* * *

Barely an hour had passed when Hermione received her first interruption. It was her fault. While working through her transfiguration essay on Animagi, Hermione's mind switched to the Slytherin potion as she came across mention of one _Desiree Mabruxy,_ the first registered animagus. The surname sounded familiar at first instance, until it hit her that it was the same as one _Albatros Mabruxy,_ whom she had read about in her private library. It seemed like so long ago, despite the fact that it was only yesterday.

So much had happened since.

Distracted by this new bit of information, Hermione headed to the catalogue to search books which might shed some light on the Mabruxys. There were several. She made her way to the stacks which housed texts on great wizarding families and pulled out the first one she could find titled, _Descendants of Salazaar Slytherin. '_Typical,' she thought.

She walked back to her desk, sitting with eagerness to search through the untouched source. Surely enough, the name _Mabruxy_ was in there:

"Direct descendants of Salazaar Slytherin, the esteemed _Mabruxy_ family held great power in the wizarding world for over two hundred years between the 17th and 19th centuries. The line ended with the daughter of _Albatros_ and _Desiree Mabruxy, Rose Mabruxy_, who married into the _Malfoy_ family. Her first born was named _Abraxus_, a play on the letters of her father's name. It is rumoured that the _Malfoy_ and _Mabruxy_ families were involved in a feud in the final days before the sudden disappearance of _Albatros,_ in 1898. The investigation into his disappearance was closed without resolve_. Desiree Mabruxy_ is also well remembered as being the first registered animagus in the wizarding world – taking on the form of a sparrow, inspired by the great aviary owned by the Mabruxys."

Hermione was stunned. No wonder Malfoy placed so much emphasis on his lineage. The prat really was pureblood royalty. She liked the name Rose though, and would never equate it to be a name of a Malfoy. 'Only by marriage,' she reassured herself.

Despite this new bit of information, Hermione still had nothing on the _etat d'esprit_ except for the fact that she could safely assume Malfoy had inside knowledge of it. It aggravated her that he knew something she didn't. At the same time, she was glad that she was not the one who had not developed a dependence on it; he was really acting strange these days. She wondered whether her comment last night had stirred an emotional reaction of defiance that made him get all personal on her. She shuddered at the recollection, not wanting to remember to prevent nausea, but also fearing another reaction if she did let herself dwell on it. The chance escaped her by the presence of another.

Hermione's second interruption came when one Blaise Zabini presented at the Head Girl's reserved table and promptly took a seat opposite her. She looked up at him questioningly.

"Good Morning, Granger," he smiled. She was not in the mood for smiling Slytherins.

"Nothing good about it," she muttered wryly. He smirked in response before leaning over and grabbing the book.

"Hey! I was reading that!"

"You were reading _Descendants of Salazaar Slytherin_? _Very_ impressive, Hermione." She raised an eyebrow.

"So which is it Zabini? Granger, or Hermione, I am getting sick of the switching," she snapped.

"Which do you prefer?" He, in turn, raised an eyebrow suggestively. "I like _Granger_, it has guts to it. And, _Hermione_, well, it's…" he paused to reflect with melodrama, "pretty," he finished, his eyes lighting up like sapphires. Hermione felt her cheeks heat up in response. She inwardly groaned at her pathetic reaction. Too bad she didn't have her wand to hex him. He was staring at her with new found interest, and she was certain it had something to do with her pink stained cheeks. "You should call me Blaise," he continued.

"I will do no such thing," she replied boldly.

"Fine, as long as you call me Zabini, I'll call you, Hermione. When you call me Blaise, I'll refer to you as Granger. How does that sound?" he teased.

"Unlikely!" she huffed.

"Whatever you say, _Hermione._" He was back to grinning. "So, found anything interesting in this magnificent reference?"

"You've read it?" she asked.

"Every Slytherin makes it their prerogative to read it," he responded pointedly, as if she had mistaken the obvious.

"Excuse my ignorance," she retorted with sarcasm.

"It's okay, you're probably the _only_ Gryffindor ever to pick it up," he offered with the same tone.

"Well, that's reassuring," their banter continued. At least he wasn't suffering from severe mood swings.

"So, have you discovered anything after our meeting the other day?"

"Other than the fact that Malfoy is acting really strange?" Hermione unceremoniously rubbed the offending spot hidden beneath her scarf.

"I wouldn't know, we're not talking," he shrugged.

"That seems pretty strange to me."

"Yeah, well, he's being a demanding little shit lately, and I'm over being on the receiving end of his crap," he let out in one breath, his irate state obvious. Hermione was surprised by the frankness of the Slytherin seated before her; he had no qualms about expressing his infuriation towards his best friend, and to the Gryffindor Head Girl of all people!

"Are you sure you're not taking the potion?" Hermione inquired.

"I told you, I stopped all that," he snapped. Ah, there it was; the familiar demeanour of her potions partner.

Hermione frowned in thought. "Uhm, how often did you use it?"

"Granger, why are you being pushy? This is not about me."

"Fine!" she seethed impatiently, "I was just trying to justify why on earth you suddenly want me involved in all this, and why you are bitching about your best friend to _me_, of all people!"

"I do not _bitch_, Hermione, that is what girls do," he stated bluntly, as if she had made an uncouth error of judgement. "Besides, I already told you why I want your help, we'll be guaranteed results." Hermione sighed in defeat. Silence overcame them as she reflected on his last comment, feeling a little flushed.

"Only a few times, for one reason or another. Probably no more than on ten separate occasions since school started. It took a month to brew the first lot," he offered finally, seemingly apologetic. Hermione regarded him quietly as he stared back at her challengingly, not blinking once. She broke contact as his startling eyes became a little too much for her to handle.

"Do you know anything about Albatros Mabruxy?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a little shy at sitting in silence with her potions partner, outside of the lab, voluntarily.

"Sure, he's Draco's great grandfather." Hermione nodded.

"Do you know why he disappeared?" Zabini seemed to hesitate at her question, averting his gaze to the stack of books behind her. Hermione leaned forward across the desk, feeling rather jittery that she had just asked a rather juicy question. "Earth to Blaise?" She purposely used his first name.

"I heard you, Granger!" She smiled at the familiar reference.

"So, then answer it Zabini!"

"Fine, _Hermione!_ He never disappeared, that was a cover up. He was an unregistered animagus." He seemed to be in a battle of the minds, debating whether he should have just told her that bit of information. Hermione was very pleased with herself.

"So much for your great Slytherin reference book, it's all censored dribble, and probably full of embellishments." Blaise chuckled at her scrunched up face.

"That's because you're not a Slytherin and wouldn't know how to read it." He stood up, walked around the table and sat down in the seat next to her. Hermione was startled by his closeness as he pulled the book towards them and opened it to the page she was reading on the Mabruxys. "See where it says, _'a play on the letters of her father's name'_?" Hermione nodded, as he leaned over closer to point it out. "That is a clue."

"How would you know that?"

"Hermione, who cares if his name was a play on the letters of her father's? C'mon!"

"Well, it might just be the humour of the writer," she offered lamely, feeling distracted by the close proximity to the alpha male beside her.

He turned to look at her with amusement. "Slytherins don't read or write for amusement, Hermione."

"Fine!"

He smirked at her defeatist response before continuing, "a play on his name could also suggest a literal approach given that the author has already pointed out the more unidentifiable play on letters, so one can easily deduce that Albatros Mabruxy was an animagus, who's transfigured form was –"

"An albatross," Hermione concluded. Zabini turned to face her, impressed.

"A perfect form to conceal oneself in the great aviary of the Mabruxys," he lowered his voice, his eyes averting to her lips. Hermione tensed in anticipation as he leaned forward slightly. They sat, facing each other, inches apart. He was teasing her by not closing the gap between them, and she sure as hell wasn't going to make the first move. She looked down at his lips, full and enticing, and was shocked by her desire to want to kiss them, just to see what it would be like.

Just as suddenly, Zabini pulled away, and stood up.

"I have to go. Quidditch practice," he stammered, clearing his throat. "I'll owl you the recipe for the potion, just use this spell to reveal it," he withdrew a piece of parchment from his pocket, and handed it to her, their fingers brushing against one another as she took it. She nodded, looking down as he walked away. Hermione fiddled with the parchment. It was still warm. Her life had suddenly adopted the characteristics of a tornado, full of turmoil. Was there any Slytherin without issues? Did she do something to lead him on? Hermione felt like she was suddenly the victim of a streamlined plot of madness.

"Stupid Slytherins and their hidden agendas," she muttered. Of course, no Slytherin text would ever be straightforward. She snorted as she recalled her naïve response at the potential humour in a reference text. "Good one, Hermione," she outwardly scolded. Riled and distracted, she packed her bag, checked out the offending reference book that had caused her sudden hormonal imbalance, and walked out of the library petulantly.

* * *

"Hermione!" She turned to see Harry running over to catch up with her.

"Oh, hi Harry," she broke her reverie.

"Nice scarf." She looked at him questioningly before realising that she was in fact wearing the strategic scarf.

"Thanks," she muttered. "Did you just get up?"

"Yeah, big night, huh? How'd you feel this morning?"

"Not good. It was the first time I had noticeably drooled in my sleep." Harry laughed. They walked aimlessly out into the quadrangle and sat hidden behind a cluster of pillars, leaning against the hard stone.

"Hey, do have your wand with you?" she asked, remembering her dilemma.

"Yeah why?"

"Can you try a locating spell for me? I can't seem to find my wand," she shrugged sheepishly. Harry looked at her with bewilderment.

"Since when do you lose your wand?" He announced.

"Shhh!" she buried her head in her hands with embarrassment. "I know!" she mumbled behind them. "It was the firewhiskey!" she continued in her defence. 'Amongst other things,' she thought.

"Hermione, look at me." Harry nudged her gently. She looked up, her hair still covering most of her face. Harry moved it away, tucking it behind her ears. "Is everything ok?"

"Fine, Harry. Just a bit stressed. It doesn't help that I can't find my wand either. I feel bare without it!" she exclaimed. Harry nodded, recognising her distress and pulled out his own.

"Do you know any spell that can help locate it?" he asked her.

"Uhm, try _Accio,_ or maybe a magical compass based on my charge" she suggested, thinking hard at the available options.

"Ok, _Accio _Hermione'swand!_" _he pronounced, waving his wand with concentration. They waited with bating breath.

"How long does it usually take for you broomstick to get to you?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"Couple minutes."

"How long has it been."

"Couple minutes." Hermione groaned at his response. Harry grinned cheekily.

"Maybe it's locked away somewhere?" Harry offered.

"Where? The last I remember having it with me was in the Gryffindor tower. I'm pretty sure I took it back to the common room with me, there is no reason why I would leave it behind," she reflected.

"Maybe you dropped it when you were making out with Dean," Harry replied teasingly. Hermione glared at him.

"Spare me."

"What? It's perfectly plausible. I forget my wand when I'm with Ginny all the time." Hermione groaned even louder.

"Harry! Too much information!"

"Aww, c'mon Hermione, it's not like you haven't clued on that Ginny and I are sleeping together."

"Harry!" He was laughing so hard at her facial expression of distaste that he fell to his side curled up in an uncontrollable fit. Hermione kicked him playfully in the leg. "Speculation is not fact, Harry. Thanks for ruining my appetite for the rest of the week."

"It's a good thing it's Saturday, then," he replied, finally composed and sitting upright. "It also leaves you one day to locate your wand." They sat in contemplative silence. "Hey, do you have the marauder's map with you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Maybe it'll show up on that? It might locate two Hermiones," he suggested.

"You know, that just might work. It's been less than twenty-four hours so it might trick the map." She pulled it out of her backpack eagerly and handed it to Harry.

"_I solemnly swear I'm up to no good_," Harry said, revealing the contents of the map. His brows furrowed in concentration as he scanned through it.

"Well, I can see you with me here," he offered lamely, continuing to look. "Doesn't look like it's showing anything, sorry to get your hopes up," he looked up at her apologetically. Hermione shrugged, unsurprised by her bad luck.

"Well, I guess you can have the map back anyway, I no longer need it," she said ruefully. She had grown attached to having it with her at all times.

"Hang on a second, it's also showing you on the fourth floor. I don't know that area though." Hermione's eyes widened.

"Let me see." He handed her the map, looked perplexed. Surely enough, there was a very faint ribbon floating about the fourth floor, and she knew exactly where.

"I have to go! I know where it is!" she spoke hastily, standing up and grabbing her stuff. "I'll see you later ok?"

Harry frowned at her reaction. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked worriedly.

"No! It's fine, I must have dropped it on the way back to my room last night." She gave him a quick hug before rushing off, leaving behind one baffled Harry Potter.

* * *

Hermione practically ran all the way to the fourth floor, in fear of losing out on locating her wand. She waiting impatiently for the stairs to change, rushing up them as soon as they locked into place, raced down the main corridor that finally turned into the familiar unused hallway. She stopped outside the notorious classroom to catch her breath before pressing down on the door handle and opening the door.

She stepped in without thought at what wards might be in place, and instantly regretted her lack of tact as her whole person was enveloped with a thick chilled slime, causing her to shriek at the contact.

"Hermione?"

"Ugh!" she lifted her hands to her face to clear her eyes. Before her stood one very amused Zabini and one unmistakably smirking Malfoy.

"What is this stuff?" she shrieked in disgust.

"It's just basic slime," Zabini laughed.

"Blaise! This is not funny!" She saw Malfoy's brow furrow at their first name references.

"Granger, what the _fuck_ are you doing in here?" Malfoy barked, unimpressed.

"You!" she shrieked, her rage coming back to her from the night before as she saw him standing, arms crossed, the perfect picture of a fresh looking, well rested, smug prat. She rushed over to him in her slimy state and shoved her finger on his chest in rage, not caring that she was dirtying his pristine t-shirt. Zabini stood frozen, stunned by her reaction.

"You," she seethed angrily, shoving her finger into his chest with each word, "have. something. that. belongs. to. me!"

"Why would _I_, have some thing that belongs to _you_?" he replied cockily, seemingly unfazed by her repeated poking and t-shirt staining. Hermione's eyes narrowed with new found fury and with both hands she shoved him, hard. He grabbed her wrists as she went in for a second shove, her mind clouded with such anger she could feel uncontrollable magic stirring within her. He gripped her hard, heightening her recollection of last night as the hairs on her neck stood on end.

"Granger, stop this nonsense!" he thundered.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, pulling against his grip for release.

"STOP! Both of you!" a third party interjected with a roaring authority. Hermione and Malfoy stood shocked as a displeased Zabini walked over to them standing to one side.

"Draco, let her go," he demanded. Malfoy instantly dropped her hands and she stepped back, rubbing them both, the slime was cooling against her skin. Zabini turned to her, lifting his wand in her direction "_Scrougify". _The slime disappeared instantly, leaving the impression that it had only been a horrible daydream.

"Thanks, Blaise," she muttered.

"Blaise?" Malfoy repeated harshly turning to his housemate for answers. Zabini ignored him, focusing on one panic stricken Hermione.

"You ok?" She shrugged. "Sorry 'bout the slime, it's a gag we set up on weekends when we know some of the other guys are going to wander in," he smiled reassuringly. Hermione nodded.

"It's fine," she mumbled awkwardly. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her.

"Blaise, why the fuck are you explaining yourself? She shouldn't even be in here!" he barked. Zabini looked over at his housemate, unimpressed.

"I don't think she would have come in here if she didn't have a good reason."

"You're defending her?" he cried with incredulity. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, what's wrong with you?" Zabini's voice rose. They glared at each other. Hermione stood there, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Blaise?" she stammered. "Do you mind if I talk to Malfoy, alone?" They both turned their attentions to her, both holding expression of surprise. She looked at Zabini, pleading with him. He sighed, nodding.

"I'll be outside." He stomped out of the room, slamming the door.

Hermione glared at Malfoy, he still had slime on his t-shirt. She was glad Zabini had not _scrougified _him.

"I'd like my wand back, Malfoy," she stated bluntly, her tone flat.

"What makes you think I have your wand, _Hermione?_" he was mocking her.

"If you can't handle the fact that Blaise and I have decided to refer to each other by our first names then that's your problem." She liked how he was irked by this very recent development. He regarded her silently, maliciously, before his eyes dropped to her scarf and a great big smirk presented itself. Her breath hitched.

"Never took you for a scarf wearer, Granger. Too classy for a lowly person such you," he remarked coldly. She could feel her blood boiling as she clenched her fists.

"Malfoy, you are so _full_ of yourself, I'm surprised your head hasn't exploded," she snapped. "Now, give. Me. Back. My. Wand!"

"You mean this?" he offered slyly. He lifted his t-shirt behind him and pulled out her wand from his back pocket. Hermione moved to grab it. He pulled it out of her reach, he was a good head taller than her,after all.

"I don't want to play games Malfoy, just let me have it and I'll leave quietly," she said exasperated at the turn of events.

"Ah, ah, Granger, how do I know you won't resist your urge to hex me?" he scoffed.

"Malfoy, I want to get as far away from you as possible. You are a nuisance!" she retorted, hand on hips.

"Tell me, Granger, why would one want to cast a _possesif eruption_ spell? A lover's scorn perhaps?" Hermione narrowed her eyes in realisation, sending him the most malicious death glare she could fathom. He chuckled at her expression.

"How dare you!" she yelled. "What makes you think you can go around picking up people's wands and casting remembrance spells to invade their privacy?"

He merely shrugged, "It's fun when it involves you, my dear Head Girl."

"I hate you!" she shouted. There, she had finally said it to his face, after all those years of pent up anger. She could feel tears building up behind her eyes. Not wanting to stick around to let him see her crumble, finally, she turned around, forgetting about her stupid wand and walked over to the door opening it in haste.

On the opposite side of the hallway, Zabini was sitting against the bluestone wall. He looked up at her; she avoided his gaze as she turned away, hurrying down the hallway and out of sight. "Hermione!" she heard him yell after her. She ignored his calls, going straight to her dorm room and shutting herself away. For the first time in her life, Malfoy had managed to shatter her defences.

* * *

A/N: Poor Hermione, will she bounce back with more fervour? What's going on inside Malfoy's head? How will her relations with Blaise develop? And, lets not forget our beloved Gryffindor Dean, he has a few things to learn himself! :p


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: And, so it continues. Ah, the trial and tribulations...: p **

* * *

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, her tear stained face staring blankly at the state of her bedroom. A hurricane had just passed through. In all her rage and uncontrollable tears of pent up anger, Hermione had thrown half her belongings across the room, ripped her bed covers from their pristine arrangement, cleared the contents of her vanity in one clean sweep and, even extended the gratitude to her bathroom when she had walked in to wash her face with cold water only to break the mirror as she caught sight of the offending scarf around her neck.

Hermione Granger, Head Girl, Gryffindor princess, model student, had just trashed her room. What made it worse was that her wand was still in the hands of one major fuck up, the Head boy. Well at least she felt calm. Or, perhaps it was more numbness and a sense of major defeat, heightened by the fact that she couldn't even walk to her door without breaking a bunch of stuff? She hunched over, looking out the window.

The diamond lead lined arches gave little away on what lay outside the castles walls, letting enough light in to maintain the façade that there was life beyond the confines of the Hogwarts castle. Hermione had no idea why she had reacted so severely toward Malfoy. He had crossed the line, or perhaps just pushed the final button which steamed the jets of her temper. Enough was enough. It didn't help that her hormones were shot. Too much stimulation? She shook her head to rid herself of the thought.

Reluctantly, Hermione walked back into the bathroom, careful not to step on the shards of glass as she sat her self on the edge of the bathtub, letting the taps run cold as she finally managed to wash her face with such reserve, the officious bystander would never consider her the perpetrator of such tasteless violence towards her own belongings. It was going to be a bitch to clean up the mess. She needed to get out of the room to avoid thinking about it. With that thought, Hermione walked out, damaging a few things along the way.

She glared at the common room. What use was it being in this state? It no longer served its original purpose to displease. In fact, Malfoy seemed to prefer it this way with his notorious bean bag escapades, the last of which involved an attack to her neck! Hermione was going to change it back to its former glory as soon as she got her wand back. The only problem was, she was never going to get her wand back. As far as she was concerned, any future interaction with Malfoy was off the radar. Walking out of the common room, Hermione made her way to the Gryffindor tower in search of a distraction. Her vendetta: to abuse her Head Girl status.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room stank. The air was filled with the lingering stench of firewhiskey, the empty bottle still on the floor, offending articles of clothing removed strewn about, cards all over the place, like someone had flung the lot of them in the air, a few bodies lazily spread over furniture, unmoved in an effort to minimise hangover effects, and funnily enough, a bunch of first and second years had cleared a corner to claim as their own while the rest of the Gryffindor house was in Hogsmeade. Hermione walked up to Seamus who was flat out on one of the couches, still asleep at one in the afternoon. She nudged him. He grumbled something incoherent and brandished his hand to rid the disturbance. "Seamus!"

"Can't you see I'm unavailable," he mumbled, turning his back to her. Hermione pinched his arm. "Ouch, aww, why'd you do that for?" he rubbed his arm childishly. She ignored him and moved over to yell at one of the sixth year boys who had participated in the previous nights exploits and was now curled up on the carpet in foetal position wearing his school pants only.

"Oi, you!" she nudged his ribs with her foot. "Get up!" She was certain she'd heard a course of swear words until she kicked him again, a little harder this time. He was alarmed to be looking up at a displeased head girl and scurried into an upright position.

"What time is it?" his voice sleepy as he rubbed his eyes. Hermione rolled hers.

"One o'clock. Seamus, get up!" she shouted. "You guys are disgraceful, setting a bad example to the poor first and second years that've had to see you like this. I am tempted to deduct points!" Seamus' eyes shot open at her final remark.

"C'mon Hermione, it's Saturday, give us a break."

"Ever heard of the concept that dorm rooms are for sleeping, common room is for active individuals?"

"Awww, we were too tired, and plus, Ron and Lavender were in there!" Hermione was about to dry retch. She didn't even want to think about _that_! Changing the subject she directed, "Clean this mess up! Where is Dean, he should be here helping! He's the one who organised the bloody thing."

"Try Pavarti's room," the sixth year offered nonchalantly.

Hermione froze to process that bit of information. "_Really_?" Her tone was unusually saccharine. The sixth year nodded, regarding her curiously. Seamus looked worried by her premeditated disposition.

"You okay, Hermione?" he asked.

"Just peachy," she replied staring at him, or rather through him. Her mind was abuzz with all sorts of possible outcomes while her manic smile was enough to get Seamus off his feet, grab the sixth year and push him into action to clean up, leaving Hermione staring at the wall in her own little world.

Snapping out of her reverie, she turned to face them. "You might need to use some industrial strengh _scrougifying_ spells to get rid of the odour." She walked through to the stairwell that led up to the dormitories and headed straight for her old room. She slammed open the door, walking straight over to Pavarti's bed and pulled back the covers.

Pavarti shrieked, covering her bare breasts. Shocked to see Hermione standing at her bedside, she turned mute, her face flushing with embarrassment. "What the?" Dean mumbled turning over. He opened his eyes, staring directly into Hermione's, widening in realisation. The two looked at each other, then back at the glowering Head Girl who looked like she was about to blow off some major steam.

Instead, she merely cocked her head to one side, her face drawing a reproachful smirk, "So, Dean, do you like me enough to sleep with other girls? It must be one hell of an infatuation! Well let me tell you something…GAME OVER!" she fired. She looked at Pavarti. "Sorry you had to get caught up in his little web of lies. Did you know our Dean is involved in a little competition to add notches to his bedpost all in the name of Quidditch?" It was cruel, but she didn't care. Pavarti was obtuse enough to get this far on her own; someone should break it to her. And, it was the perfect time to share her knowledge with Gryffindor's own prat. "But don't worry, he's all yours, I wouldn't want to go anywhere near someone with a genital rash." Pavarti's eyes widened as she looked over at Dean in horror.

He was stumbling for words, "She's – she's lying, I do not! She's just jealous, don't listen to _her_," he stammered. Pavarti lifted the covers discreetly and looked down before shooting him a death stare.

"Doesn't look like she's lying Dean?" Pavarti retorted. "Get out!"

"What?"

"You heard me, get out of my room. Now! That is so disgusting! Who knows what I've caught!" She shoved him to move out of her bed.

"I can't just walk out of here with no clothes on. Hermione, can you pass me my clothes?"

The nerve!

"Get your own clothes." She stood aside with her arms crossed. Pavarti shoved him again.

"Ugh, get out you pig!"

"Fine!" He sat up, stood up on the bed naked, and stepped off, trying to be discreet. Hermione was trying to control her urge to laugh.

"Looks nasty, Dean. Might want to get that checked out," she giggled. He glared at her.

"You did this! I don't know how or when, but this is _your_ fault!" Hermione was laughing so hard she couldn't hear his distress as he shuffled about the room looking for his clothes, finally finding his boxers and slipping them on.

"Me? We never got that far Dean, even when I did tell you to stop and you didn't." Hermione reminded him.

"He did what?" Pavarti shot out.

"He was a little desperate to get ahead in his competition so he thought a little force would be ok," Hermione offered.

"Whose side are _you_ on Hermione? Looks like you're backing the Slytherins. No one likes a traitor."

"No one likes a cheater, you mean," she corrected hotly.

"Didn't I tell you to get out?" Pavarti interjected. He turned to face her, sending her a pitiless pleading stare that was so pathetic Hermione was disgusted.

"Quit your games, Dean, best get that rash checked out post haste," Hermione grinned brazenly with scornful satisfaction. She felt herself mirroring one notorious Head boy. He shot her a fierce look. "Don't be so _crabby_, Dean," she chuckled at her own joke. Finally, he gave up and walked out, slamming the door behind him. It was ironic to be on the receiving end of a door slam. Hermione was slightly disturbed.

"What was I thinking?" Pavarti moaned. "I'm _so_ sorry, Hermione, I feel _terrible_." Hermione turned to face her.

"Forget it, shit happens," she shrugged. "There was nothing going on between us since the incident. We were trying the friend thing after he apologised."

"I can't believe a Gryffindor did that!"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything about that, especially not to Lavender." Hermione frowned at the thought of that bit of info getting out. It could have serious repercussions for everyone. Pavarti nodded. "I'm serious Pavarti, if it leaked to the professors they would investigate and I just don't want to get them involved. It was nothing serious, someone interrupted us in time. I'm not emotionally scarred or anything."

"Who came to your rescue?"

Hermione frowned at the idea of Malfoy being her _rescuer. _"Don't remember, I was a little distracted at the time," Hermione half-lied.

"Hermione, you really are something," Pavarti laughed. "Uhm, what's this about a quidditch competition."

"I'm just speculating so I'd rather not discuss it much further," she concealed, knowing she had said too much in her reactive state. Blaise would kill her if word got out. Being loyal to a Slytherin, well, that was something else entirely, best not dwelled upon too much for fear of mental breakdown. "Although, feel free to spread the work on Dean's rash. He'll have to try particularly hard next time he tries to catch the attention of a girl. No one will want to go near someone with a perpetual condition."

"Oooh, sabotage. Count me in. He deserves it for what he tried to do to you. And, who knows what he's given me! I just feel stupid for letting myself fall for his charm. I was drunk, so it didn't take much charming, mind you." Pavarti frowned in recollection. Hermione smiled at her frankness.

"No hard feelings, I just wanted to get a point across. I'll leave you; I think I've invaded enough privacy for one day." Hermione walked to the door and opened it before turning around. "Oh, and don't worry about catching anything. I would consider Dean's condition to be…superficial," she finished, smirking at her own ingenuity. Pavarti exhaled with relief as shot her a look of admiration. Hermione stepped out of her old dorm room, feeling nefarious and not necessarily satisfied.

* * *

Sunday came and went by without occasion save for the fact that Hermione was still missing a wand and had not crossed paths with Malfoy, or any other Slytherin for that matter. Despite her state of unease, she had not bothered to try and locate it on the marauder's map, or ask Harry for assistance. He was under the impression that she had recovered it and had even asked her about it. "Of course I found it, Harry," she had said. The problem was that Hermione just didn't want to attempt anything that could result in a confrontation with _him_. Her plan of action was fine, until Monday morning arrived and classes were due to commence. She was glad to have her school shirt and tie back on, concealing the now fading mark on her neck.

Begrudgingly, Hermione made her way to charms. It was hopeless. To the point where she decidedly feigned stomach pains to excuse herself, with permission of course, before the practical started. Having a clean record for illness had finally served her purpose and she decided to skip class by spending it in her almost forgotten sanctuary. Discreetly making her way to the fourth floor, Hermione could not help her phantom rage as she turned into the tarnished hallway. To think they'd had green slime set up as a gag made her cringe in reminiscence. Could they have been any less original and, muggle like? She chuckled at the association. They'd love that reference. Nearing her door, Hermione felt a wave of excitement overcome her. It had been a while, clearly.

She sat in mediative position on the floor and pondered her plan of attack. Without a wand, Hermione was going to have to rely on some old fashioned scheming. She needed to write a list. Unable to levitate parchment and a quill, Hermione stood up and walked over to the desk, sitting upright and ready. "Right," she said, reaching for a piece of parchment and then the nearest quill, drawing a line down the middle of the page. To the left she wrote, 'Malfoy's weaknesses', and to the right, 'Malfoy's Strengths' – this was going to be an interesting exercise. Running her fingers over the feather of her quill, Hermione pondered his weaknesses. After a few minutes, she put the following to paper: '_Etat d'esprit_; quidditch; girls; arrogance; intolerance; antagonistic behaviour; Slytherin; indiscretion; PRAT!'

Feeling satisfied, she moved on, but not too hurriedly for at first she had nothing to write in the strengths column. She was clouded by her bias. "Be objective," she directed to herself. The tip of her quill touched the parchment and stood stagnant, letting the ink blotch. Slowly she began to write the following: 'Head Boy = good grades* (cheater) and leadership skills* (fascist); quidditch* (not as good as Harry); girls* (#?!); potions* (_etat d'esprit_); Slytherin leader (Blaise?); arrogance; drive; fortitude'. She was surprised to see that she had written the last two. She snorted at the last word but left it as an accommodating term for his _rescuing_ abilities and strong iron-clad grip.

Hermione looked back at her list and crossed off the terms that were different. She was left with the following on both sides: '_etat d'esprit_; quidditch; girls; and arrogance'. She resolved that these were the keys to help her execute her plan and not have him realise it. Hermione leaned back with satisfaction, feeling a little less perturbed about facing Malfoy in class. First things first, she would need to utilise her recently neutral Slytherin acquaintance, one Blaise Zabini. It was a good thing she had potions next and would not need a wand.

* * *

Hermione walked into the classroom late, well, later that her usual ten minutes early. She decided it was best to arrive with everyone else, and be certain not to give herself the opportunity for any unnecessary verbal interaction with Malfoy. The Slytherins were seated and engaged in conversation, speaking in lowly tones which came to an abrupt end as she approached her work station. They both looked irritated. Hermione sat down without saying a word and focused her attention on her books until Professor Snape walked in. She could see Zabini steal glances at her from her periphery but she feigned ignorance and exuded a vibe of disinterest.

"Right, today is all theory; you will be told once, take note." Snape was never one for introductions and immediately turned his attentions to the black boards, inundating three with details on the properties of healing potions. The whole class groaned. "Silence!" Snape thundered upon which the only sound that could be heard was quill to parchment.

Hermione was busy taking notes when she felt a nudge. She looked over and saw Zabini point to a piece of parchment he had placed in the centre of their desk. She looked down at it impatiently.

_Cat got your tongue? _Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her writing. She felt another nudge to her side. She turned and glared at him, he was now busy taking his own notes but the parchment had more text.

_How on earth did Malfoy manage to get hold of the Head Girl's wand? _She turned and stared at him in shock.

_Why don't you ask him?_ She finally wrote and returned to her work. It was difficult to concentrate now that he had grabbed her attention. Hermione's memory came flooding back as she pictured herself on Malfoy's lap, her wand falling from her hand as he…she wasn't going that far into her memory. She shivered at the thought. She turned to look at the parchment to see if he had responded. He smirked at her eagerness.

_He won't tell me. Says he can't remember. Yeah Right! Why can't he remember?! _She looked up at him and shrugged nonchalantly. She wondered how he would react if he knew. He frowned at her gesture. Hermione sat staring at the board feeling a little dazed. Professor Snape looked up and noticed her lack of note taking. "Finished already, Miss Granger?" The whole class looked up and stared at her. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks. Her eyes caught Dean's briefly, he looked back at her with heated distrust and annoyance. She smirked knowingly.

"No sir, I was just taking a moment to consolidate," she replied steadfastly.

"Very well, then can you tell me, what is the core ingredient found in all healing potions?" Damn! Hermione thought hard and fast. She hadn't even come across that information yet! From her periphery she saw a parchment shift slightly in her direction and quickly glanced down. In big letters, Zabini had written,_ NETTLE!_ Without thinking she announced, "Nettle, professor?" He said nothing, which meant that she was right. Hermione sighed in relief and dropped her head back down, scolding herself for not reading ahead this week. She could still see the words on the parchment and felt obliged to respond. _Thanks. _She shuffled the parchment across to Zabini's side of the table. He looked up at her and nodded, smirking. She owed him. Damn those opportunistic Slytherins.

_Meet me after class in the owlery, _was all he wrote and that was the end of their interaction. Hermione finally was able to concentrate and was pleased to find that nettle was in fact the core ingredient in all healing potions, as pointed out on the third blackboard. Professor Snape was cruel. As if she would have got that far!

As soon as class ended, Hermione shot up and promptly exited the classroom, reluctantly taking a turn toward the owlery. She hadn't been there in a while. There was no need when she could borrow Hedwig. She heard the oak doors croak open and turned to see Zabini enter.

"The _owlery_?" she questioned. "You couldn't have chosen a more compromising venue. What if someone walked in here?" Zabini smirked as he approached her.

"Am sure you'd be able to explain yourself without any assistance," he toyed. Hermione was not pleased and turned away to look out the great open windows. The cool breeze chilled her face.

"Can we make this quick, I don't want to freeze to death up here." He walked over to where she was standing.

"So, why does Malfoy have your wand?" Zabini asked casually, like it was no big deal.

"I told you, ask him yourself!" she replied tersely.

"Don't you want it back?" she turned to face him, exhaling infuriatingly.

"What do you reckon?"

"Maybe I can help you then?"

"I don't need your help! I can handle Malfoy!" she snapped.

"You realise you're the laughing stock of the whole Slytherin house? I mean, it doesn't look good for the Head Girl to be _wandering_ around the school unarmed. No pun intended." Well, that explained the unusually high number of amused smirks she had received in the hallways. She felt so enraged.

"Is there a point to all this? I thought you and Malfoy weren't talking. Did you kiss and make up?" Zabini only chuckled at her sarcasm.

"Hermione, I knew you had a sense of humour."

"Shut-up! Why do you care anyway?"

"Well I need you to have your wand, don't I?"

"I don't want anything to do with Malfoy, or any of you Slytherins. If Malfoy is addicted to some potion, what do I care? My curiosity has been shot by all the other crap that comes with it."

"Well then, this might put some perspective on things." He put his books down on the floor, shuffling thought them and pulled out a piece of parchment, handing it her. She reluctantly took it.

"Potion reactions and lingering effects?" she read allowed. "Where'd you get this?"

"Potions periodical, you gave me the idea, actually," he stated. She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Well, when you asked me if I was still taking the potion," he continued. Hermione looked back down at the parchment. She scanned down the list muttering aloud as she read and stopped abruptly.

"_Extreme changes in body temperature…incapacity to register actions...unexplained or uncharacteristic behaviour…these side effects are generally exacerbated with time, especially if a person has had a visibly severe reaction to a potion in the first instance or has developed dependence. Typically, these effects have been identified to occur in potions that are currently on the illegal substance catalogue._"

Hermione was riled with fear. She looked up at Zabini who was regarding her quietly. It was too late to be angry; she had drunk the potion of her own free will, despite the madness of succumbing to Malfoy's demands. It explained everything.

"You realise, that whatever we have going on here is the influence of a side effect?" she said. He shrugged.

"It doesn't seem that bad to me." Hermione pursed her lips in reflection.

"Does it bother you that we are doing things we would never, in a million years, consider doing?"

"It's the dutch courage factor. The way I see it, I probably wanted to talk to you all along but felt compelled to stay within Slytherin protocol."

"I guess that might be one way to look at it," she frowned, "it certainly doesn't explain a lot of other things that have happened."

"Such as?" Hermione remained silent, she could name several.

"Well…what happened in the library the other day?"

"Which part?" He was being sly, ever the opportunist to show his Slytherin qualities.

"You nearly kissed me." She figured she may as well be frank. He smirked knowingly.

"Is that what you thought I was doing or what you wanted me to do?" he replied stepping forward. Hermione was confused. "What if I nearly kissed you now?" he continued, closing in on her. She found herself in the same proximity as that day in the library.

Looking down at his lips she replied, "You're doing it again." He laughed, his eyes lighting up. They stood there for a few moments, egging each other on, their lips merely inches apart. Hermione felt herself caving into the mystery and oddity of the scenario. What would it be like to kiss a Slytherin? The semblance of intimacy was consuming, and so, she decided to yield in the heat of the moment, closing the gap and letting her lips touch the unchartered territory of Slytherin. She pulled away just as quickly, shocked at what she had done.

"Sorry," she murmured, looking away. He was quiet. She looked at him, hoping he would say something, anything. Sighing, she moved to walked past him.

"Wait," he cleared his throat. Turning around was probably the worst thing she could have done.

"Hermione, I've wanted to do that for a while, you just beat me to it," he said hoarsely, looking unsure of himself.

"Dutch courage," she shrugged, feeling foolish.

"No, you don't understand." Hermione grimaced in confusion.

"What does it matter? I'm sorry, it didn't mean anything. I just did it for the sake of it." She thought she saw a glimpse of disappointment wash over him but it was soon overshadowed by his determined expression. He walked over to her. Hermione brandished a hand to stop him.

"I don't think I can do this now," she said definitively, "sorry." At that, she turned and walked out of the owelry, more confused than ever. Blaise Zabini was _not_ neutral territory.

* * *

Hermione skipped all her classes for the rest of the day. She knew she would be called up for it since it was so uncharacteristic of her, possibly the result of a lingering effect of her one time affair with an illegal potion, but she just didn't care. She lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly. What the hell was she doing? Kissing Blaise _and_ seeking out trouble by going to the Gryffindor tower. Her initial plan was to let Dean freak out about his condition which would appear once he had moved on to his next conquest and would worsen each time, but she had blatantly made her revenge known to him. The hex she had cast on him was vengeful enough, and her manner of execution, well, she was completely shameless and unusually audacious in her approach. The worst thing was, there was no way to escape it.

Hermione needed to get her wand back. She sat up with resolve and decided she had to act now. She entered the empty common room and walked straight over to the door of the Head Boy's bedroom.

"Hungarian horntail," she spoke out. The door clicked, marking its unlocked status. She careful wrapped her hand over the door handle and tentatively turned it, slightly at first, then with more confidence as she swung it open and stepped in.

Other than the filtering light she had brought with her, the room was dark. The blinds had not been pulled back, the bed was unmade, bits of uniform, quidditch gear and books were strewn about. Malfoy, contrary to his immaculate appearance, was very messy. Hermione closed the door behind her and switched on the light. Silver and green flooded her visual field. She walked around to the end of the bed, careful not to move anything, and scanned the room.

His dresser draws were all half open, the countertop was filled with products. His robe doors had also been left open. She peered in and saw countless schools shirts and trousers to one side. Of course Malfoy would have more than the average change of uniform. She caught sight of his desk and was surprised by the sight. It was perfect, not a thing out of place. It struck her as rather neurotic that he had a neat zone, and walked over to inspect more closely.

She reached over and pulled the delicate wrought iron handles of the desk drawers. The bottom draw housed parchment, spare quills all neatly aligned, ink bottles of all colours, and a roll of cotton ribbon that they used to tie their parchments when they submitted assignments. It seemed ordinary enough. She moved up to the next draw, it would not open. Hermione wondered if her wand was in there. She was downright doomed if it was. The next draw was unlocked and bore the contents of recent assignments, all handed back. She shuffled through them, most had been graded 'E' or 'O' which she found rather astonishing. Although there appeared to be a large pile, it stopped about halfway down the depth of the draw. Hermione was befuddled and took all the parchments out to get a better look at the bottom. It was definitely not the bottom of the draw, she reasoned. She tapped at it, pressed down on the corners and even tried lifting it out but it would not budge. Hermione really wished she had her wand. It probably explained why the draw under it was locked as well.

Reluctantly, she placed his assignments back, closing it, and stood up to inspect the top draw. There was a whole lot of confectionary; Malfoy seemed to like chocolate frogs, and a stack of photos. She was about to take a look when Hermione heard voices from the common room. "Shit," she muttered. She could hear footsteps approaching the bedroom door and cringed at the prospect of being caught by Malfoy. She heard him mutter his password and dove under the bed in time to hear the door handle turn and unlock. The light was still on. _and _she had left the top draw open. She groaned inwardly at her lack of covertness.

Hermione could see Malfoy's feet as he stepped into the room, dumping his bag on the floor and sitting on the edge of his bed as he took his shoes and socks off. He stood up again, and walked into his bathroom. Hermione was unsure of whether she should try sneaking out of the room but with all his stuff everywhere she was certain that her luck would have her trip over something or make her presence known at the very least. She looked around her under the bed. There were various unsanitary items lying about, like socks, a pair of boxers which caused her to instantly grimace, a bra, she wondered whose, and a stack of magazines of which she certainly could deduce were not about quidditch. Hermione felt extremely unclean being under Malfoy's bed. Not only that, it brought her actions into perspective. She was screwed.

* * *

A/N: What confrontation awaits? Will Malfoy realise that his room is housing an intruder? And Blaise? Is he the bearer of a long time crush? Looks like Hermione's original fear of side effects was not unwarranted. Till next time! :p


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: It's been uncharacteristically a while since my last post, but my writer's block for my other story A Cognitive Dissonance miraculously cleared and I had to get it do paper. This chappie is a little shorter than usual, and a little telling too! Enjoy!

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The sound of running water emanating from the bathroom instantly brought Hermione back to alert mode. She had to move quickly. Taking a deep breath to ready herself, she carefully crawled out from under the bed. Lying low, she spotted the open desk draw and carefully crawled over, lifting herself up enough to close it, tensing as she controlled the release of its handle.

Now upright on her knees, Hermione looked over the bed at the bathroom door; it was half open which was enough to conceal whatever Malfoy was up to. She heard him cough over the running tap. Looking over at the entrance to his bedroom she estimated the time it would take her to rush across with a degree of stealth.

Five seconds?

Provided she didn't encounter any floor obstacles. Quickly glancing back at the bathroom she stood up and hurriedly rushed around, careful not to step on anything, reaching the door.

Four seconds.

Hermione sighed as she gently placed her hand on the door handle, turning it as she pulled to finalise her escape. It wouldn't budge. "Shit!" she whispered, turning her head quickly as she glanced over at the bathroom before turning her attention to the unyielding door.

She pulled again.

Nothing.

Panic stricken, Hermione was feeling the brunt of her predicament, especially since the tap had stopped running. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Hermione ran over to Malfoy's closet and stepped inside just in the nick of time as Malofy opened his bathroom door and walked back into the room. She heard him shuffle about, mentally willing him not to come near his closet. She shut her eyes to escape reality. The room became ominously quiet.

Hermione held her breath.

The closet door swung open, just as Hermione opened her eyes. They widened in horror at the sight of Malfoy standing before her, half naked, and with a heated malice in his eyes.

"Hello, Granger," he drawled deviously, like he had just caught his prey. He leered in triumph. Hermione's heart was pounding so loudly, she barely heard him speak. Realisation dawning, she bolted out of her spot and rushed past him so quickly, his reflexes were too slow as she ran back over to the door, away from his reach. She pulled against it desperately, a final attempt before turning to face him, her back against the door. Hermione grabbed the nearest potentially dangerous object she could reach in defiance.

A book.

How ironic.

"Open the door, Malfoy," she threatened. He was standing on the opposite end of the room nonchalantly eyeing her, his wand in hand.

"Quite the demanding intruder, aren't you Granger? What are you going to do? Throw my potions text book at me?" She instantly felt the book float out of her grasp and over to his side of the room into his free hand. He tossed it on the floor beside him. Hermione glared back at him.

"Alright Malfoy, you've got me. I haven't taken anything, so you can let me out now," she attempted to reason, her voice firm.

"Granger, if you are going to sneak around someone's room, make sure it's not a Slytherin's. You really have no clue. My bathroom has a mirror, you know," he offered, his tone belittling.

"Well, I would have no reason to if you'd just give me my wand!" she shouted, finally losing it. She picked up another book and threw it at him. His wand redirected it to his bed.

"And here I thought you wanted to just snoop around my interesting and expensive possessions," he retorted.

"Fuck off, Malfoy." He began to walk over to her side of the room, his bare chest threatening her senses as she involuntarily averted her eyes to it. Of all the opportunity to perve, this was not the time. It was all Dean's fault. He had tweaked her interest.

"You see, Granger, we have a slight problem, since this is my room and all." He was standing in front of her now, his eyes daring, his hair slightly wet around his face, a shade darker as a result.

"Don't come any closer, Malfoy," she warned. He looked at her strangely. "Just let me out," she almost pleaded, her voice slightly pitched.

"I can't just _let you out_. You should never have come in here, Granger." Hermione stood silent and worried. The tone of his voice mimicked the same one she had used when she had caught Dean with Pavarti. The situation was volatile and she had to be careful.

"Granger, you seem to be showing up everywhere you're not supposed to lately. Why is that?" He narrowed his eyes awaiting a response.

"Well, Malfoy, I wouldn't be in the way so much if you just gave me back my wand," she attempted to reason. He considered her response, as he tapped his wand with his opposite hand.

"Somehow, I doubt that," he said resolutely. A moment of silence engulfed them. "What's going on with you and Blaise?" he almost demanded. Hermione was surprised by his question.

"Nothing," she simply said as the image of her kissing Blaise flashed before her. She blinked to evade any suspicion from Malfoy. He was eyeing her very carefully.

"I think we have a problem here, Granger."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're lying."

"What?" She was dumbfounded and still backed against his bedroom door.

"You are lying," he repeated with more clarity, almost patronisingly.

"I heard you! Nothing is going on, Malfoy!" She could see he was dissatisfied as he pursed his lips to restrain himself from any further questioning. It was all so very bizarre.

"Malfoy, if you don't have any more probing questions, I really would like to be let out."

"What about your wand?" He cocked his head, smirking. She had forgotten about it at his mention of Blaise.

"Well, I can tell you're going to be an ass about it. So, I might have to take it to the professors," she threatened. His expression turned to one of amusement as he reached out and tugged at her tie. Her eyes widened at his touch. "What are you doing?" He grinned maliciously.

"I just want to see if my little mark is still there since you haven't been able to glamour it."

"How dare you. Don't touch me." She reached out and jerked his hand away. He smirked and flicked his wand. Her tie undid itself from its perfect Windsor and slid off, landing at her feet. "Hey!" She grabbed at her collar. He flicked his wand again and she could feel her shirt straining under her grasp as she tried to stop the buttons from undoing. Her attempt was futile as she gave in and the top three buttons of her shirt were undone. Her eyes were wide with horror as his eyes looked at her neck with interest. She felt so vulnerable under his tormenting gaze. She turned her head to the side in defeat.

"Not so little, was it?" he said in a low voice. Hermione was thrown off by his tone. She glanced back at him anxiously. He looked up at her. "Do you want your wand back, Granger?"

"What do you think?" she signed with resignation.

"Don't move," he warned. Hermione was beyond confused, and her mind was clouding with uncontrollable urges as he stepped closer, body heat emanating off his bare chest. She closed her eyes apprehensively.

She suddenly felt his lips touch the telling spot on her neck, and his tongue slide out to lick her skin. Her body stiffened completely in response, and her breath hitched. The sensation was overwhelming. She felt him suck against her again, his mouth unrelenting. Hermione groaned in both satisfaction and discontent as she knew what the result of this action would yield.

She had to stop it.

Her hands came up to his chest, to push him away. She heard him inhale at the contact. It only served to confuse her.

Intrigue took over, as she tentatively slid her fingers across his chest. He let go from his grip on her neck and pulled pack. His expression was uncertain as she looked back at his concentrated look.

Her hands were still on his chest. Malfoy looked down at them. She quickly retracted them, one hand coming up to touch the seared, tingling spot on her neck. He had done it again.

"My wand Malfoy," she said tersely. Finally coming to his senses, he smirked back at her, his attention falling on her hand shielding her neck. He flicked his wand and the door clicked, marking its unlocked status. He walked over to his closet she had hidden in only minutes earlier, opened it and stepped inside. She heard shuffling befroe he finally stepped out again, her wand in his hand.

She wanted to scream. To think she was so close to it! He walked back over, his eyebrow cocked knowingly.

He held it out to her. She reached for it. He retracted it. She glowered before a second attempt.

He let her take it, his insfferable smirk firmly in place. The charge of magic washed over her upon contact with her most prized possession. She felt complete once more. Oh, how she wanted to hex him but he already had his wand out pointed in her direction.

Always the Slytherin.

Hermione huffed, and opened the door, keeping her back against it, before quickly dashing out without looking back.

She had forgotten her tie.

* * *

A/N: Hmmmm, what does all this mean? What is up with Malfoy? And, Hermione? Can you blame everything on the etat d'esprit? Do I sense a bit of jealously re:Blaise? Time will tell... :p


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So, here is the next chappie. I was so excited by the response to the last one! It was my favourite, too. Although, I apologise for the typos. :p **

**To answer your question Preciousblue: I thought Tom Felton did a great job of Draco in HBP and he received the right amount of screen time. It added depth to his character in prep for final flicks, revealing more than just the spoilt pureblood bully that he was portrayed as in earlier flicks. He played the bad boy well, until he lost it and brokedown in the bathroom! hehe Prof Slughorn was just as I imagined, and I think Daniel Radcliffe deserves more credit for his role - he's really mastered the book character on screen. Anyway, I mostly enjoyed the humourous teen love issues and Harry on Felix! hehe **

**Back to more pressing matters: Chapter 14! Enjoy! **

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Hermione Granger was caught in a state of confliction as she stood staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. More specifically, she was staring at her neck, flicking back and forth between the wand in her right hand and the revived hickey. _This_ was what it took for Malfoy to hand over her wand? No matter how many times she questioned it, no logical explanation availed.

What's more, never mind him questioning how on earth she had managed to get into his room, he was more concerned about her and Blaise. She expected a reaction much worse to the one he had exhibited. Despite his unpredictability, her fear of what he might do far outweighed his actions.

Draco Malfoy was no longer acting the way he _should_.

Hermione cast a glamour charm over the offending mark and purposely sought to wear a v-neck t-shirt to re-affirm her control on the matter. After all, she did have her wand back, and she had discovered a thing or two about the Head Boy. The only downside was that her intrigue had been exacerbated, not eased. She was consumed by the uncharacteristic demeanours, or misdemeanours, of not one, but two, prats of the Slytherin rat pack.

* * *

Reclaiming her wand had also brought with it a newfound, almost addictive, enthusiasm in class. It was as if Hermione had been holding her breath underwater to the point of manifesting an enormous desperation for air upon surfacing. The professors expressed wonderment at her eagerness to utilise her wand and demonstrate her skills. In reality, she knew that she was trying to prove herself, to overcome her guilt for losing her wand so frivolously, and to a Slytherin.

"Hermione, you've done the same spell, like, ten times. I think McGonagall recognises that you have mastered it already," Ron pointed out, a little worriedly. Hermione was in a frenzied state.

"I just want to be sure that I am not fluking it!" she snapped.

"Hermione," he placed his hand on her forearm in an attempt to bring her back to reality, "I don't think you've ever fluked anything." She shrugged him off, turning her head to glance at a few snickering Slytherins behind her, who had overheard.

"Watch it, Greengrass," she seethed.

"What are you going to do, Granger? Transfigure me too? I think that feather has suffered enough torture," she mocked, the Slytherin girls laughing. "How'd you manage to get your wand back, anyway?" she continued, the girls all grinning knowingly.

Hermione's expression was one of pure loathing. She needed to give them something to be riled about. "Rules of persuasion, Daphne. How do _you_ get what you want?" she retorted, knowing full well Daphne's reputation. She saw the Slytherin's eyes narrow in understanding before the characteristically calculating expression came to fruition.

"As if a Gryffindor could ever pull that act on one of _our_ boys, maybe you've been fantasizing a little too much, since your boys don't deliver," she remarked snidely, loudly enough for Ron to hear. He turned around.

"You wish, Daphne," he simply said, facing the front once again. Hermione laughed as she saw Daphne scowl. It brought her back to reality. She really was overdoing it. After all, Professor McGonagall had already awarded her an 'E'.

* * *

Hermione sat in the Great Hall, reading over her Arithmancy notes before her class test. The morning post was flying through as she looked up at the interrupting noise. Her inclination to see one of the owls approach her was validated as a school barn owl flew overhead, dropping the envelope onto her text book. Se quickly hid it at the back of her book.

"Who's that from, then?" Ron asked sleepily, yawning in the process.

"Probably just notice to pay my subscription for The Prophet," she dismissed haphazardly. Her parents rarely sent her anything by owl. She glanced over at the Slytherin table looking for Blaise, only to have her eyes land on the Head Boy who happened to be glancing back at her at the same time. It was the strangest thing to catch him looking at her; she almost wanted to yell 'What?' across the room but he simply looked away just as quickly, an uncertain expression on his face as he flicked over his housemates present. Blaise was not there, and she knew that Malfoy had put two and two together that she was searching for him. It was no wonder that she had avoided them both all week for perhaps the umpteenth time this year; she had gone from one extremity to another with that lot.

She averted her attention back to her table as she heard mention of Dean. A few sixth years were whispering with Ginny, giggling and shooting fleeting glances at Dean on the other end who sat quietly, absorbed in his thoughts. Hermione smiled with satisfaction. It suddenly brought to mind something else.

"Hey, Harry," she nudged. His head was on the table, he was having a quick snooze, it seemed.

"Hmmm?" he mumbled.

"When is your last practice before the game against Slytherin?" she asked, lowering her voice for his ears only.

"Next Thursday," he muttered, turning his head away. Hermione looked over at Ginny, who was struggling to stay awake. Heavy lidded, she was quietly eating an apple.

"Harry, stop fucking around and get some sleep at night. It's not sustainable," she whispered.

"I can't help it," he managed to reply, forcing himself to sit up, rubbing his eyes as a half-smile of recollection crossed his face.

"Ugh, Harry, it's for your own good."

"You wouldn't understand." He grinned over at Ginny. Hermione was slightly hurt by his comment.

"I understand perfectly," she replied tersely, glaring down at her food. Harry, sensing her change of tone, turned to her.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's Ginny, she won't give me a break!" he sighed. Hermione stared back at him, mouth agape before breaking into a fit of giggles.

"Are we talking about the same Ginny?" she had to ask. Harry just glared at her.

"Trust me, I am not complaining, but with the game coming up against Slytherin, I really need to have my attention _and_ energy focused on that."

"Well, why don't you _tell_ her that? I'm sure she'll survive." Hermione replied, the amusement apparent in her voice.

"Think you can tell her for me?" Harry asked meekly. Hermione shook head, shooting him a reprimanding look.

"Ginny and I don't even talk about school work, Harry. I doubt she'd appreciate it if I pulled her aside and said that her boyfriend told me he is too tired to focus on winning the next quidditch match, or school work for that matter, because of their overzealous bedroom antics. And, in saying this, she should cool off for a bit."

Harry chuckled at her reasoning. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Oi, what are you two whispering about?" Ron interjected, leaning over the table.

"Nothing," they replied in unison.

"I'll see you both later." Hermione stood up, giving Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder before make her way to the library.

* * *

Seated at her usual table, Hermione opened her Arithmancy book and retrieved the envelope. She opened it hastily, unfolding the parchment. There was a note, and a blank second sheet.

_'Hermione, _

_I had to write it out as the book would not allow for magic copying. Sorry if it a little hard to read. I was in a bit of a rush. _

_Let me know what you think._

_Blaise'_

Hermione could not help but feel disappointed by the brief message. She put the note down and stared at the blank piece of parchment. She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out the small piece of parchment he had handed her last week. It had been there ever since.

She unfolded it carefully and looked down at the two word spell.

_? Solitario Occhi _

Sighing, she pulled out her wand and muttered the words, paying no head to the significance of the question mark.

Nothing.

The parchment remained blank. "Now what?" Hermione muttered under her breath. She tried again but to no avail. Reluctantly, Hermione stood up from her seat and wandered over to the foreign language section. She guessed the spell was of Italian origin but had no idea what it meant. She was caught by a particular title.

_The Roman Source _

She pulled out the book, coughing, as she disturbed the dust that had built up around its edges, and opened it. There was a chapter on common Italian spells. Scanning down the alphabetical list, her eyes landed on the exact phrase and she read the translation. _'Lonely Eyes: Used to ensure that only particular individuals can reveal concealed information meant for their eyes only.' _

Hermione looked back down at the spell Blaise had written on the parchment, this time recognising that the question mark might bear some meaning. She walked back to her desk and muttered a series of possibilities as she repeated the spell.

"My Solitario Occhi?"

"Hermione's Solitario Occhi."

Still Nothing. In frustration she tried one more for the hell of it.

"Granger's Solitario Occhi," The once blank parchment revealed a hurriedly written list of ingredients in dark green ink, titled 'L'etat d'Esprit'. Hermione groaned at his sense of humour.

Typical.

Relieved to finally be getting somewhere, Hermione scanned down the list. It wasn't especially foreign, save for a few specialist ingredients she immediately recognised as probably being the cause of all the side effects. She had heard of them all, but one.

_'Blue Blood'_

Hermione suddenly felt annoyed. Why hadn't Blaise just simply shown her the potion being made and the ingredients? He was taking such a text book, research focused approach to it with her, keeping her at a distance, when he had all the ingredients hidden somewhere. She headed to Arithancy with a new found aggravation.

* * *

It wasn't until that evening in the Great Hall that Hermione finally spotted Blaise. He was sitting next to Nott, who was discussing something animatedly. She kept her eye on him all evening, and the moment he stood up and walked out, she followed.

He turned into the hallway to take the stairs down to the dungeons.

"Blaise!" He stopped and turned, surprise on his face to see that she had called out. Hermione jogged up to close the distance between them.

"Hi Hermione," he said, somewhat distractedly.

"Can I talk to you…about the list?"

"Oh, so you got it?" he remarked irately. Hermione stood there, unable to comprehend his aggression.

"Yes, I got it! Forget it!" Hermione turned and started walking away, mentally berating herself for trying.

"Wait!" he rushed up to her side, walking with her, and suddenly pulling her into an empty classroom. Hermione crossed her arms angrily, leaning against a desk, looking down.

"So how did you manage to get your wand back?" he asked, totally off topic.

"What does it matter?" Hermione was not in the mood.

"Just wondering what it took for Draco to give it back. Unless, you stole it back?" Blaise cocked an eyebrow eagerly.

"I attempted to, but it was harder than I thought. We came to an arrangement in the end," Hermione offered reluctantly.

"You and Draco _agreed_ on something?" Blaise chuckled.

"Well, it wasn't really agreed on," Hermione muttered, frowning as her hand came up to her neck, gingerly rubbing. "Look, it doesn't matter, I don't really want to discuss it," she finished nervously.

"Is everything okay?" Blaise asked, a hint of concern edged in his voice. Hermione looked at him. She couldn't say anything. Whatever it meant, it would stir trouble. She merely nodded. "I have my wand back don't I?" she tried to joke. Blaise remained quiet.

"I read the ingredients, and I wanted to ask you something," Hermione started, desperate to change the topic. "Nice revealing spell by the way."

He smirked knowingly. "I thought so," he grinned, his mood changing. Hermione relaxed a little.

"Why give me an ingredients list when you have been making the potion right here in the castle?"

"It's the _Blue Blood _that threw you off isn't it?" Hermione nodded, furrowing her brow.

"Why should I have to research it, when you could just show me what it is?" Hermione replied, feeling downtrodden. Blaise walked over to her.

"Of course I would _if _I could. I've never seen the ingredient. Draco adds that in…he's the only one who knows what it is, who has it, and who knows where to get it. He won't tell me." Blaise admitted.

Hermione immediately thought back to the locked draw of Malfoy's desk. "It's the second last ingredient we add," he continued. I don't know why it has to be the second last, but it is, and we have to wait exactly 14 days before we add the last ingredient. I can write out the procedure if you think that will help. I only know it from what Draco has instructed. His book only lists the ingredients."

Hermione pulled out the parchment from her bag and looked down the list at the last ingredient. "One drop of mandrake puss," she read aloud.

"Yep," Blaise sighed. "You shouldn't be walking around with that. The reversing spell is _Solo Occhi. _Hermione's breath hitched at the way he said it as the parchment became blank once more.

"Mandrake puss is extremely strong, there must be something in the _blue blood _that needs to be neutralised once it's activated in the potion." Hermione wondered aloud.

"That's where we went wrong in the batch you took," he confessed uncomfortably. "The last ingredient was added one day too late because of the quidditch match we had on. Strong stuff, whatever it is."

Hermione was feeling slightly distressed by the admission. "How did Malfoy react?" she asked.

"I haven't told him."

"Were we the only two who took that batch?" Blaise nodded. "Malfoy, obviously had a lot more," he half smiled.

"Great," she muttered under her breath. "Well, I'll see what I can find out," she shrugged turning to leave.

"Hermione, wait." A sense of déjà vu came over her. She reluctantly turned to face the Slytherin.

"About the other day –"

"No need to explain," she dismissed. Hermione could feel her cheeks flush at his mention of it.

"Just hear me out, Hermione!" he replied with frustration. Hermione was startled by his insistence.

"Okay," she replied meekly.

"I want you to know that when I said I'd wanted to do that for a while, it wasn't because of dutch courage, or anything that might be a result of the potion."

"Okay," she said to hide her nervous discomfort and her building giddiness. He stepped closer again, standing merely inches from her.

"I've wanted to kiss you since the end of sixth year," he finished, before pressing his lips to hers, quashing her ability to speak.

Startled and shocked by his confession, Hermione found herself responding to his movements as they stood kissing in the empty classroom. His tongue grazed over her lip, as she willingly parted them to allow the Slytherin entrance. The situation was thrilling to say the least, as his tongue circled around hers, caressing, drawing her in closer. It was the most sensuous kiss she'd had to date, and she was melting at his touch.

Blaise's hand came up around her waist, pulling her in closer. She could feel his arousal this time, yet it didn't frighten her like it had with Dean. She felt empowered, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling him closer. With newfound confidence, she goaded her tongue into his mouth, letting it explore.

Neither heard the classroom door open.

"What's going on here?" Blaise and Hermione broke apart, breathless, and turned to identify the intruder. The cutting eyes of the Head boy were focused back at them with determined malice.

* * *

A/N: I will say nothing this time... hehehe


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So here it is, the most anticipated chapter in this story to date! I was quite surprised to see that a few of you have taken a preferred liking to Blaise. Perhaps this chapter will change you mind, or otherwise re-enforce it? LMK! I could have gone two ways with this chapter, the original draft unfolded differently but I was not happy with it and felt that the timing was right for what happens here. NOTE: M classification stepping up to the plate. **

**Can divulge details of original draft if you're interested. :p**

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Blaise maintained his cool, unlike Hermione, who was about to jump out of her skin, especially since she had the knowledge of what had transpired in Malfoy's room. She tried to untangle herself from Blaise's hold, dropping her hands down to her sides, yet, he maintained his grip on her waist, keeping her close.

"Draco, it's not your concern," Blaise stated firmly. Hermione was whimpering, as she turned her head away from Draco. She could not explain her reaction but it was certainly contrary to her usual hot headed ability to take a stand.

"Oh, you have no idea," Draco growled with derision.

She felt Blaise squeeze her waist reassuringly before letting go. He walked over and stood in front of Malfoy, blocking Hermione from view.

"How could you?" Draco spat.

"It just sort of happened, okay? You pretty much walked in on it. That's all," he tried to reason. Draco was glaring at his housemate before pushing him aside with an angered force that left Blaise shoved against a desk, as he came face to face with Hermione.

"You lied, Granger," he thundered, his eyes ripping through hers, shocking her system, as if a flame had just been ignited.

"It's none of you damn business, Malfoy," she yelled back as she walked over to check on Blaise. "Blaise are you okay?" she asked

"Blaise!" he repeated acerbically, as if it cut him every time she referred to his supposed best friend. "Granger, you are doing this on purpose!"

"Doing what on purpose?" she shouted, riled by his notions.

"Trying to ruin the order of things," he retorted, as if it were blatantly obvious.

"What!" Blaise and Hermione exclaimed in unison.

"Draco, what are you on about?" Blaise demanded. He glanced at Hermione.

"I knew something was up when you quit the challenge. Damn it Blaise, of all people, why did it have to be her!" he barked, sending her a scathing glare. It was as if he was struggling to come to grips with something.

"What's that supposed to mean!" Hermione had reach the pinnacle of her frustration. She shoved Malfoy squarely in the chest with all the force she could fathom. He did not retaliate, but merely sent her a sly smile.

"It means, Granger," he came forward, as if stepping up to the plate to deliver, "that you shouldn't lead people on."

She pushed him again, he stomach churning with nausea at the unfolding events before her.

"Eager for another touch, Granger?" he asked condescendingly.

"Hermione, what is he talking about?" Blaise furrowed his brow with uncertainty.

"Yes, Granger, what am I talking about?" Draco was purposely leading her into muddy waters.

"This is entirely your fault, Malfoy!" she shouted back. He had known about Blaise's interest in her all along, and was doing everything in his power to sabotage it.

"Hermione?" She finally turned to face Blaise, staring at him with pleading eyes.

"I don't know how to explain it…and it's not just my fault…but since I took the potion, there have been incidents." She glared back at Malfoy.

"Well, I knew that much." Blaise replied.

"I mean, other than those between you and me," she tried to hint. Malfoy scoffed. Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a silencing charm on the head boy. It was the first time she had ever hit him with magic. The outrage in his face was priceless, his silver eyes filling with a wrath that was solely concentrated on her.

"Uhm, a couple of times, I have found myself…in situations with Malfoy that are really out of character. Uhm, it's not like we've kissed or anything…"

"What?" Blaise suddenly bellowed, understanding the picture. He walked over to Malfoy.

"What is she talking about, Draco?" he bit out. Malfoy glared back, standing tall to accommodate his incapacity for speech. "Hermione, can you reverse the spell?" Blaise sighed, rubbing his forehead. She obliged. "You're out of control, Draco," he stated bluntly. Hermione could see the tension between them.

"Don't you get it Blaise, if she's letting me do things to her, what makes you think anything going on with you two is genuine?" Draco spat.

"What exactly have you done?" Blaise shouted. The whole situation was beyond comprehension.

"Marked her…like property," Draco taunted. Hermione missed the beat where Blaise's fist connected with Draco's jaw, as she was too distracted by his use of words which left her blood rushing to her cheeks, and her heart thumping against her ear drums. She was so embarrassed at the way she had just been objectified, and yet, she was so…strangely aroused by his words. It was extremely disturbing.

Shaking his fist in pain, Blaise turned to face her. "Is it true Hermione?" She nodded slightly, not really sure whether he was asking for affirmation of what Malfoy had just said, or whether she had no idea if her emotions toward him were legitimate. He sighed and turned back to face Malfoy.

"You really know how to fuck everything up, Draco. You're on your own." He walked out, slamming the classroom door behind him, without even looking at Hermione. She felt tears of shame and regret.

* * *

Hermione now stood alone in an empty classroom, with Malfoy, when only minutes ago she had been in there with Blaise. He was rubbing his jaw, shooting her death stares.

"Malfoy, you are a royal fuck up," Hermione screamed. "What do want from me?"

"I don't want you with Blaise," he merely affirmed, a surly satisfaction apparent on his face as he straightened his robes.

"And you think you have the right to make such a decision?" she bit out sharply.

He stood up and walked over to the door. Hermione locked it just in time, her trusted spell coming in handy once again.

"Granger!" he growled.

"No Malfoy, I want an answer. You embarrassed me in front of Blaise!"

Malfoy hit his hand against the door hard, causing Hermione to jump. His hair was tousled across his face, his eyes almost shielded.

"That is just how it is, Granger. Let me the fuck out!"

Hermione sat down on a nearby desk, crossing her arms in an act of authority. "No."

Malfoy stood, while Hermione sat, in thick silence. Her eyebrow arched expectantly as she awaited her answer. He just shrugged and leaned back against the wall, twiddling with his wand. He was shooting sparks, flicking the lights on and off. It was utterly childish, and yet Hermione let him, feigning indifference at the whole affair.

The clock in the room ticked over to the next hour, giving them both a fright as they looked up at the source of incessant chiming. Huffing, Hermione kicked at the air, letting her legs dangle aimlessly as her hands fell down to grasp the desk at her sides. Malfoy was playing the mute card.

Decidedly, Hermione grabbed her wand and transfigured a chair into a beloved Gryffindor red bean bag, before pushing herself off the desk and landing squarely in its centre. She sighed in comfort, burying herself into it more. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her and looked up at him with satisfaction, affirming her ability to stay locked in here for as long is it took. She pulled out a book from her nearby bag and settled in with it open in her lap.

Malfoy growled in dissatisfaction.

"Fine!" he thundered. Hermione rested her book on her lap and looked up.

"Fine, what?" she asked innocently.

"Granger, since you already know so much, like the typical nosy bookworm that you are, it's not Blaise, it's you."

"I already figured that much out, Malfoy!" she replied hotly.

"Shut up and listen, Granger," he warned. "It's for your own good. You shouldn't mix with anyone else who has taken the potion."

Hermione frowned at his somewhat considerate remark. "Care to elaborate?"

"No, I don't care to elaborate, Granger," he fired.

"And, why not?" she retorted, shutting her book threateningly.

He was suddenly eyeing her warily.

"Malfoy!" She didn't want to play games any more, or be left to work it out for herself.

"Granger, there is a particular ingredient in the potion that has several rather unique and also very unstable properties," he finally spoke out, his resignation apparent. Taking a wild guess, she presumed that he was referring to _Blue Blood._ Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he wouldn't have a bar of it as he shut her up with his wand. Hermione shot out of the bean bag in protest, the book tumbling to the floor.

"Now Granger, we can continue this conversation once you unlock the door." She shook her head angrily at the sudden control tactic he had employed.

"Fine, I do enjoy a little silence now and then, even if I'm stuck in here with you." He walked over and sat in_ her_ beanbag, smirking back at her. She was riled beyond belief, clenching her fists in uncontrollable rage, the tension in her head building.

Hermione began to pace up and down the room, letting her feet alternate between shuffles and forceful drags along the ground to convey her angry protest. She was lost in a stream of thoughts, and paid no head to the Head boy in the room. She failed to notice his approach. Her heart almost jumped out of her throat as she felt his arm circle around hers. Of course, her screech of surprise could only be seen on her face, not heard. "Will you _stop_ that!" he demanded. Hermione could only glared at him in distaste as she stood, unable to move from his strong hold.

Malfoy looked back at her, blinking once…twice, each time the colour of his iris disappearing into the growing black holes.

"Malfoy?" she mouthed, "What are you –"

To say that Hermione was muted by the Head boy's lips would be a lie.

But, Malfoy was certainly kissing her. Hermione sought to retract herself in disgust, yet, a creeping and uncontrollable magnetism kept her rigidly in place as a wave of euphoria overcame her. The intensity was mind numbing as Malfoy searched her mouth and demanded access with his tongue. Hermione willingly obliged and their tongues battled in scorching need. He tasted so good, she wanted more.

Her state of being was just like the day in his room.

Multiplied by ten.

Hermione grabbed his robes and pulled him in closer as his grip on her moved down to her waist. The feeling of strands of his hair falling over her face only served to intensify her emotions as she moaned into his mouth. But, of course he could only feel the reverberation. There was nothing to stop them, no tell tale sign that she was enjoying what was happening which had previously alerted him to stop in realisation.

Hermione's desire, drowning out any sensibility, steered her to tug at Malfoy's robes, to which he let her remove as he let go of his hold one her waist, their mouths still connected desperately. They finally pulled apart, she could hear him trying to catch his breath as they lifted each other's knitted vests off and tugged at each other's ties, kissing at every free opportunity to appease their need. They hastily worked on undoing enough buttons on each other's shirts to pull them overhead. Unable to reach past Malfoy's neck, he removed the offending article as she stared wide eyed and hungry at his chiselled physique while he drank in her shirtless form. Familiarity overcame her as she reached out and confidently grazed her fingers over his chest, across his shoulders and down along his stomach, watching his reaction, knowing that it would elicit a desirable response.

He crashed his lips back on to hers, his groan running through her mouth while his hands cupped her breasts and circled around her back to undo her bra, letting it join the other articles on the cold stone floor. His cool hands made contact with her bare skin, letting his fingers trace over the unchartered territory, as he let go of her lips and kissed his way down her neck. Hermione exhaled in delight, her limbs faltering at the sensation.

Both had forgotten who they were: consumed by their reckless abandonment.

Hermione felt herself being lifted and placed onto a nearby desk, Malfoy pressed between her legs, his hand running up under her skirt to the apex of her thigh. Her parted lips were the only sign of her voiced reactions as he rubbed her inner thigh and his fingers played with the fringe of her knickers. She inhaled in anticipation and moaned silently in innocent delight as they curled under, pushing the fabric aside and touching her where she had never before been touched.

Moisture pooled.

Caught in the heat of the unfamiliar situation drew her to lean back, her hands coming away from Malfoy and gripping the sides of the table in support, her head falling back, allowing him more access as she indulged in the sensations he was inflicting on her. His hands and mouth were everywhere. Yet, she was not prepared for what came next, as he inserted his finger into her, she involuntarily tensed in surprise.

"Relax," she heard him say, his voice deep and strained. She instantly obliged as he began to draw in and out, stirring a foreign and incessantly mounting pull that she needed to release. Malfoy added another finger, increasing the friction he was causing on her, his thumb continuing to concentrate on the spot that was making her stir and her skin perspire. She had never felt anything like it. Her eyes widened even more as his mouth came down and licked her nipple, gently biting down, causing her to finally fall back on her elbows. Her lips remained parted, breath caught, at the culmination of it all and she felt her release unleash. Her eyes were clenched shut in response.

Her chest heaving, Malfoy let go of his hold on her. She finally opened her eyes and saw him staring down at her, the expression on his face completely foreign. Hermione sat up. Her gaze fell to his trousers housing a prominent bulge. With a mysterious confidence she brought her hands to his belt buckle and undid it. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants gently, not looking up at him once as he stood there, watching her with his hands at his sides.

She tugged, exposing his boxers, eyes wide at the new experience taking place as her hand touched over his arousal. She heard him groan as she ran her fingers along him over his boxers. Her self assurance building, she pulled at the waistband with her free hand and slipped the other behind the black satin, touching his flesh as her fingers wrapped around him in a gentle grip. She wondered what it would be like to have him in her. It was the first time such a thought had crossed her mind.

Recalling his motions and the friction he had created in her, she guided her hand down to the tip and then up again, repeating the motion. Malfoy leaned in closer to her, his hand grabbing hold of the desk, the other resting on her knee as she continued her ministrations on him, her confidence growing as his shortening breath gave away his response. Quickening her pace, Hermione gripped tighter, bringing her face forward so that her lips made contact with his chest as she continued. His head fell forward, his hair shielding his face, but she could feel his breath on her shoulder.

"I'm coming," he breathed, and she noticed the change as he released, his head resting on her shoulder.

Minutes passed, and the realisation of what had just transpired was dawning. They remained unmoved, fearful of the inevitable need to acknowledge it. Hermione finally brought her hands up to cover her bare chest as Malfoy moved back, and did up his trousers. She looked up at him but he would not meet her gaze.

He turned and walked away, she felt herself growing irate but as he grabbed his wand from the bean bag, and turned pointing it at her, undoing the silencing spell, she realised his intention. Yet, she didn't want to test whether he had in fact reversed it.

Hermione could see that Malfoy was torn between disbelief, disturbance and bewilderment as his fingers combed forcefully through his hair, grabbing onto strands, his focus on the back wall of the room. She pushed off the desk gently and grabbed her bra, turning her back to him as she put it on, then reaching for her shirt and quickly throwing it over her head.

She turned around and grabbed her vest, and tie. Malfoy was still half naked, his bare chest causing her distress for so many reasons.

The door was still locked. She picked up her wand and unlocked it.

Needing to retrieve her bag, Hermione walked past Malfoy, careful to avoid contact. The proximity to him stirred a strange feeling in her. Shoving her clothes in her bag, and placing it on her shoulder, she looked over at him gain, her weight shifting from one leg to the other, wondering if she should say something.

What good would it do?

She walked past him again to the door, pausing momentarily in indecision before turning the handle and stepping out without looking back.

She rushed to her room and shut herself in for the evening, thinking of Blaise, of Malfoy, of every detail of what had taken place in the classroom before finally slipping into a dramatic sleep.

* * *

A/N: Whoa! Poor Blaise. What of Malfoy? What has this potion done to them! And what of the aftermath! :p


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Well, the aftermath awaits. A few revelations...Enjoy! :p **

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It had been a painful week since the incident. Hermione was functioning mechanically, her mind detached from the execution of her routine. She found it exhausting. Harry, being the friend who noticed her change of demeanour, had questioned her stability at one point during Charms.

"Hermione, you've had this dazed look about you all week. I'm sick of asking, but what is going on?" he asked pleadingly.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, it's not something I can really talk about in class."

"Fine, Hermione, but I'm not asking again. You want to talk about it, I'm here, but I feel like I'm talking to a petrified version of you."

Hermione, feeling guilty, on top of everything else, gave him a thankful look and returned to her thoughts. She couldn't exactly come out and say that she was the object of a twisted triangle of who knows what, between two Slytherins, who also happened to be greatly disliked by Harry, and who happened to be his quidditch opponents in the upcoming game. Perhaps if she did tell him, his drive to beat the silver the green house would take precedence over his sex life with Ginny. In any case, her sex life seemed to have suddenly been initiated by the fucking head boy of all people.

She could not stop thinking about him.

But, her mind would then avert its attention to Blaise, who had completely avoided her all week, and even failed to show up to their last potions class. She wondered whether he would show tomorrow, or perhaps she should take it as a hint that it was her turn not to make an appearance to Snape's practical. At least Malfoy was smart enough to schedule his monthly meeting with the headmaster during the last class.

To top it off, Dean was still shooting her the occasional death stare, and her vengeful tactic had backfired slightly, with all the Gryffindor boys fearing her more than ever. She was so sick of them feeling intimidated by her, it was almost refreshing that Malfoy had pulled a move like that in the classroom.

The thought of his hands on her made her face flush to the roots of her hair. How was it that, of all the guys in the school, Malfoy admittedly turned her on? He had so little to offer, with his conceited attitude, definitive prat status, Slytherin outlook and arrogant derision. She was certain that his state of mind had been severely tampered with, for him to look at her in _that _way, something was seriously wrong.

And yet, she was so torn by her actions of doing such things with Malfoy in the same classroom she had been led into by Blaise, his best friend, who had kissed her and admitted an interest that was certainly more genuine than Malfoy's. She wanted to tear her hair out to relieve the agony of her thoughts.

Her faculties were fatigued.

She felt Harry nudge her hard. "What?" she said, rather too loudly. His eyes gestured toward the front of the room. Malfoy was standing there, next to Professor Flitwick. She almost gasped at the sight of him, but her sudden washboard stature did cause Harry did not go unnoticed by Harry who watched her with interest.

"Miss Granger, this is the third time I called your name!" Hermione stole a glance at Malfoy, enough time to notice the strange smirk on his face.

"Sorry, Professor," she muttered.

"Yes, well, anyway, Mr Malfoy here requests that you attend to some head duties, you are excused from class," the Professor spoke with slight irritation at the interruption.

"Thankyou, Professor." Hermione hastily packed her things and followed Malfoy, who had already walked out.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall outside the classroom. She faltered in her step a few feet from him, not daring herself to move any closer. She narrowed her eyes at him as he stared back at her with a determined purpose.

"So, what's so important Malfoy?"

"Well, it's not related to Head duties per se, it is more about the Heads," he drawled vaguely before pushing off the wall with his foot.

"Malfoy," she warned. "Couldn't it wait?" She was nervous being around him.

"Actually, no," he walked over to her and grabbed her hand, much to her surprise, and led her down the corridor.

"Malfoy!" she repeated through gritted teeth, shocked at his behaviour. She was being pulled toward the library. He let go of her hand as they reached the entrance and walked in, holding the door open for her to follow. She stood in the doorway defiantly.

"This better be good Malfoy, I'm so sick of you," she sighed. He seemed slightly affronted and turned on his heel, letting go of the heavy door as she stepped through. It almost hit her in the nose had her foot not stopped it. Impatiently, she followed him down an aisle of stacks to the back of the library where a few study carrels were situated. He stopped, waiting for her to approach, before summoning her into one of them. He shut the door. Hermione was rather perplexed by this elaborate arrangement.

"Malfoy, is this really necessary?" she was feeling a little uneasy in the small space, but masked it with an air of irritation, dropping her bag onto the table.

"Granger, you've been avoiding me all week," he started, flicking his wand with his fingers. He was eyeing her very carefully, watching her every reaction to his statement. She frowned in realisation.

"You can't be serious, Malfoy," she resisted, brandishing her arms out at her sides.

"I've never been more serious, Granger." His eyes bore into hers. "What happened, it was a mistake, you cannot tell Blaise," he stated with a rehearsed conviction. Hermione was taken aback. On the one hand, she agreed wholeheartedly, yet, there was a small part of her that felt…disappointed.

"What did happen, Malfoy?" she asked, crossing her arms protectively because she was treading across uncharted territory. "As I recall, you came on to me!"

He watched her silently.

"It was the potion," he replied.

"How do you know it was the potion?" she asked hesitantly. Malfoy stopped twirling his wand and looked at her like she had just grown a second head.

"Because… you're the only girl I know who has taken it, and…that reaction…it's only occurred with you." She could sense his disdain in explaining this to her, like he was revealing a very personal emotional detail on a matter that gave him extreme displeasure. His revulsion was evident, and yet, where she would normally respond with indifference, she felt deceived. After all, could such an experience be purely the result of a physiological reaction only?

Hermione frowned at his reasoning. There was perhaps some truth to his statement, especially since Blaise's revelation about the batch they had taken, but what frightened Hermione most was the underlying possibility that it was not entirely attributable to _l'etat d'esprit. _Her throat was clamping with anxiety. The idea alone was disturbing.

"Malfoy, that is just one variable," she managed to utter. He looked down at her, unease apparent on his face.

"I don't want to think about it, I kissed you _after_ you had kissed Blaise."

"That's not all you did, Malfoy!" she replied hotly. She uncrossed her hands, focusing her gaze on her hands as she fiddled with the sleeves of her school jumper.

"Just promise me you won't tell Blaise," he repeated with a slight urgency.

Hermione snapped her head up, "You brought me all the way here to make sure I won't tell Blaise? What do you take me for? There is no way I would tell _anyone_, let alone your best friend, what happened. Its bad enough he already hates me after what you told him. Besides, I haven't even seen him."

He combed his fingers through his hear in the tell tale sign of anguish. Hermione thought it the perfect opportunity to ask him a question.

"Malfoy, what is _blue blood_?" she asked. His hand froze at the back of his head.

"How do you know about that?" He narrowed his eyes accusingly.

"Get a clue Malfoy, how do you think Blaise and I even started talking outside of potions? I know all about your notorious _etat d'esprit _and competitive streak_. _He's actually worried about you." Hermione admitted in exasperation.

"I don't need looking after," he defended, a hint of anger apparent.

"Actually Malfoy, you have no idea what you're meddling with. You are addicted to a highly volatile and unpredictable potion."

"What do you care?"

"I don't! But since I happened to have taken it in a moment of stupidity, I am actually concerned for myself! It is not an act of altruism, Malfoy!" Her fists were clenched at her sides now.

"I'm not addicted," he bit out.

"So, then why the hell do you take it Malfoy? Do you even know why any more?"

"You don't get it, Granger," he dismissed.

"Fine, whatever, but I have a right to know, for my own concerns. Are you going to tell me or do I have to find out for myself? And, I will find out. You know I will," she asserted with new found confidence. It was about time she faced him about the whole affair.

Malfoy pulled out a chair and sat, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk and head in his hands. He finally sat back, looking at her, the signs of defeat, wariness, and exhaustion apparent.

"You're not going to like what I'm about to tell you, so you better take a seat." He had never used this tone with her. It was slightly apologetic, slightly nervous. She pulled out the chair opposite him, and sat, leaning back tentatively.

Minutes passed.

He breathed out heavily.

"Blue blood is not just an ingredient. It is a potion in itself. An ancestor of mine stole the recipe, rather stupidly, from a secret society and led a rather restricted life afterward in fear of being killed. Long story short, the potion can only really be made by a pureblood because it requires the following: blood of an heir, blood of an heir's servant, and ground ragweed that has been dried for one lunar month."

Hermione was still processing the part about actual blood, her eyes wide in horror. She swallowed loudly as she lubricated her dry mouth.

"When you say blood –"

"Yes, I mean real blood," he interjected, "Mine, and that of the family house-elf whose ancestor has served the family. Three drops of each."

"House elves!" Hermione had never felt nauseated. "How?"

"Granger, they have to give it to me if I ask, they're house elves!" he retorted condescendingly.

Hermione turned her head so she couldn't look at him. She had drunk a potion that contained Malfoy's blood _and_ a house-elf's! She could not contain her rage or her revulsion. No wonder it was causing so many problems. Anyone who drank the blood of anything was bound to carry a burden of risk.

"If it's any consolation, I only add two drops of blue blood to the _etat d'esprit_. So it only makes up a nominal part of the total potion." Her facial expression must have been one of utter disgust for Malfoy to feel obliged to console her with a rationale.

"Nominal, but not negligible, Malfoy," she yelled. "I can't believe I drank your blood!" she cried out.

"Granger, don't take this the wrong way, but you're the one with the dirty blood."

Hermione shot out of her chair and walked round to stand in front of the head boy, her eyes shooting him daggers. "You just don't get it do you?" she bit out, her voice so angry it was barely audible. "I drank it once and who knows what's happening to me. I'm going around kissing Slytherin prats, having all sorts of mood swings, breaking into bedrooms, casting vindictive hexes on my own housemates, lying to my friends, and to top it all off, I am admitting it to _you_, of all people!"

Hermione had enough. He was not even worthy of the opportunity to respond. She turned and stormed out.

* * *

Her mind was clouded with such heated emotion she could not even focus properly as she walked through the stacks to the front of the library. She had to stop. Leaning against the bookshelves she hunched over, feeling the need to dry retch, as she clutched her stomach in search of comfort. The pressure in her head left her disorientated and dizzy. She extended her hands to grasp the bookshelves on either side for support, but it wasn't enough. Hermione felt herself falling, her legs quivering beneath her as her fingers slipped from the supporting hold. In defeat, she let herself plummet to the floor, her knees bent and her head crouched over them as she wrapped her hands around her legs and released the sob she had been fighting so hard to contain.

The tears fell.

Hard.

Until she saw heard her book bag drop at her feet and a body sit down next to her, their back hitting the bookshelf as their knees came up and a pair of forearms rested on them.

Hermione silenced herself. "Just go away, Malfoy."

"You left your bag behind." Confused, she looked up, her tear stained face bewildered by the intruder's comment.

"Blaise?" she whispered. He looked over at her, and smiled meekly, shrugging. "What…what are you doing here?" she staggered.

"I've got a free, was going to finish my essay for history. I've left it kinda last minute." Hermione nodded, wiping her drying tears from her face to regain some dignity. They sat silently, next to each other, Hermione's mind reeling with a thousand different ways to start an apology.

"I'm sorry," they both uttered in unison. Hermione let out a nervous laugh, just as Blaise did.

"Draco causing you trouble, again, I see?" Blaise continued.

"You have no idea," she replied, her voice husky from her emotional outburst.

"Actually I do," he replied, shifting next to her and nudging her shoulder. Hermione smiled.

"How could I forget," she lamented.

A thoughtful silence overcame them again, as they stared at the book spines on the opposite shelves. They happened to be sitting in the potions sections. Blaise let out a small laugh.

"I know," she replied, assuming he was thinking about the irony of it all as she scanned over the titles. Her eyes halted on one. She sat up on her knees and moved over to read the title more carefully.

_Bloodthirsty Concoctions: the calamities of the live potion_

She pulled it out.

"What is it?" Blaise asked half heartedly. She lifted the face of the book for him to read. He cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

* * *

A/N: I debated whether Blaise should have come back into the picture, I had originally written it as Malfoy bringing her stuff, but I could't just let him go! I think it worke out better this way. Juicy develpments...What will the two discover? Will Malfoy ever stop being predictable?


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I know it's been a while but this chapter should rekindle your interest. I hope! :p **

_Previously: __"What is it?" Blaise asked half heartedly. She lifted the face of the book for him to read. He cocked an eyebrow questioningly._

This," Hermione started, waving the book in front of her, "I hope, will provide us with some answers."

Blaise leaned forward with interest. "Do you mean to tell me, that _blue blood_ is actual – "

"Yes," she cut him off, not wanting him to say it aloud. He leaned back against the bookshelves with a thud, disbelief written all over his face, along with a hint of undeniable revolt.

"Any idea whose?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Malfoy's," she offered, sitting back against the stacks opposite him, the book clenched tightly in her hands. She was going to break it to him slowly.

"Figures," he bit out, his expression more annoyed than disgusted.

"That's not all. It brings to light a whole new level of service from a house-elf. Add a dash of ragwood, and voila, _blue blood,_" she finished.

Blaise was silent for a moment, trying to make sense of her cryptic explanation. He stared at her bug-eyed as it dawned on him. "House-elves!?" he exclaimed, a little too loudly. She sent him a reprimanding glare.

"House-elves?" he repeated, his voice terse yet whispered. Hermione nodded, a wave of nausea revisiting her. "Shit," he said, more for his own benefits as he consolidated his thoughts. "That can't be good," he shook his head.

Hermione looked down at the book in her lap. She couldn't face reality just yet. "I think it's best that I take this back to my room and read it thoroughly. You better go finish your essay." Hermione stood up, stepping over to her bag. As she bent down to retrieve it, Blaise's hand rested on her forearm.

"Can I see you later?" he asked suddenly. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted contact with any Slytherin. She pulled her bag up, and rested it on her shoulder, before staring down at him.

"Aren't you angry with me?" she asked.

"Well, this kind of puts a new spin on things," he replied, his lips tightening as he frowned. The whole classroom incident was still too fresh in her mind, yet she felt guilty if she refused his request.

"Meet me on the fourth floor, after dinner. We can go through this together," she waved the book to signal her intention to keep it work related. Blaise stood up, brushing his robes before turning his attention to her. He just nodded before walking away in the direction of the study carrels. Sighing, Hermione walked to the front desk to check out the dreaded book before exiting the library. She needed some air.

* * *

"Hermione Granger," she heard someone call out as she walked towards the castle exit into the quadrangle. She turned in the direction of the girl's voice. It was Lisa Turpin, the raven beauty.

"Hi Lisa, did you want something?" she asked. Lisa walked up to her with a determined pace.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, actually," she smiled in such a way that implied something unfavourable.

"Is it about patrols?" Hermione attempted to deduce.

"Not quite. It's more about my patrolling partner." Hermione shifted her weight from one leg to the other impatiently.

"What about him?" Hermione felt like she was being set up. Lisa was being exceptionally sweet toned.

"Well, Draco and I were _patrolling_, if you will, and I must say, I was rather surprised when he had a momentary lapse of confusion."

Frowning, Hermione responded tartly, "What exactly do you mean?"

"I doubt I would ordinarily noticed such a slip up, but it certainly caught me off guard when Draco happened to say _your_ name in the heat of the moment, if you catch my drift," Lisa divulged slowly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Hermione's mouth went dry, as she tried not to react to what she had just heard.

Straightening her back and lifting a brow, Hermione feigned disgust. "I can't control what Malfoy says in the _moment,_ as you put it. Maybe you should ask him about it?"

"Oh, but I did. He just denied it. It was rather amusing, really." Lisa offered, tilting her head, amusement apparent in her face.

"I'd be worried if the guy I was _patrolling _with didn't get his partner's name right. Maybe it hits home on something?" Hermione didn't know why she was acting all defensive, but it certainly didn't help that Malfoy was starting to act out his side effects in the presence of others.

"I know it's not me, that's why I thought you might provide some insight. But, perhaps I am mistaken, I mean, you and Draco?" Lisa laughed at the notion.

"Are you done?" Hermione's patience was almost extinguished.

"For now," she shrugged, "I'll see you at the prefects meeting?" her tone suddenly civil once again. Oh, how Hermione wanted to shut her down, her vengeful streak rising to the surface. 'Walk away, Hermione,' her sensible self warned.

"You bet," she replied as sweetly as she could, brushing past the Ravenclaw and walking out into the quad. She didn't realise she had been holding her breath until the doors closed behind her, and she exhaled in relief, releasing her pent up rage. The patrolling roster needed reviewing. Malfoy was stirring all sorts of trouble, without even realising it.

Hermione lodged herself on the stone bench at one corner of the quad, lying flat as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling. The day was not even half over and she had already dealt with too many surprises. The inquisition from the Ravenclaw only served to heighten her stress factor. It was one thing to act out on something in her presence, and a whole other consideration if the side effects were meddling with his subconscious. What was the muggle term often quoted to frivolously to cover up such occurrences?

A Freudian slip.

Just perfect.

She closed her eyes worriedly, trying to clear her mind of all the morning frivolities.

* * *

"A penny for your thoughts." Hermione's eyes shot open and she found herself staring directly into the dark eyes of one much unexpected Theodore Nott. She instantly sat up, straightening herself into an air of proper indifference. His grin was disconcerting.

"Theo," she acknowledged reluctantly as she swung her legs over the edge of the seat, once again hitting the ground. He sat down next to her, infuriatingly close. What ever happened to mudblood germs that whole rat pack had taunted her about?

"Hermione," he acknowledged, "how is the Gryffindor head girl these days?"

She turned to him, her expression suspicious. "Fine," she replied tersely. He nodded, silent for a moment. It gave her the opportunity to inspect him closely. He was square jawed, rather rugged for a Slytherin, and surprisingly was sporting a pair of tortoise shell square frames which gave him an air of a slight alternative sophistication. She didn't realise he was actually doing the same thing in return until she caught his gaze. Instinctively, she looked away.

"Was there something you wanted?" she asked for the second time that day, to an even more unlikely person.

"McGonagall asked me to find you," he offered. She raised her brow goading him to elaborate. He moved to one side, leaning back slightly as he reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out a piece of folded parchment. He handed it to her.

"What's this?"

"I'm failing Transfiguration. McGonagall reckons you'd be a good tutor," he shrugged.

"Surely, someone from your own house can give you a hand?" she replied, unfolding the parchment and reading over it quickly. It was a notice from the Professor outlining that if his progress continued at his current state, he would fail NEWT Transfiguration. She looked back at him questioningly.

"Well, yeah, but I am not about to go announcing to the rest of my house that I need a tutor. Besides, you come highly recommended." He was being unusually civil with her. Of course, it did help that it was to his benefit if Hermione agreed to tutor him. Yet, it still puzzled her that he would _want_ to.

"How can you be failing if you qualified for NEWT Transfiguration?" He shrugged. Hermione frowned.

"Poor organisations skills?" he threw into the wind. His sarcasm did not go unnoticed.

"If you're not serious about this, then I don't see why you should bother with seeking a tutor." She handed him back the paper.

"Hermione, I am asking you this favour as Head Girl, house rivalry and blood status aside, I am willing to cooperate and be civil with you." He was offering a wager now, appealing to her sense of duty. She sighed.

"Wednesday's after lunch, I have a free. You?" He nodded. "Fine, meet me in the library."

"Thanks." He got up and gave her a small smile of civil gratitude before walking back into the castle entrance.

Everything happens in multiples of three; Hermione tried to re-assure herself that the surprises for the day were over. Not a moment's peace had been achieved.

She was sorely mistaken.

* * *

Dinner in the Great Hall had never been such a nerve wracking affair. It began in a normal fashion, the usual catch up with house mates, Ron's jokes, Harry and Ginny's exploits of affection, Ron's reprimand in disgust, Seamus' dirty jokes, and Pavarti's update on 'Who's hot, and who's not'. Dean was definitely a '_not'_ of late, bringing momentary amusement to Hermione.

It was between mouthfuls that Hermione was alerted to the novel scenario.

"Hey, check out the Slytherin table," Ron alerted Harry and herself. Hermione looked up, swallowing her food, before opening her mouth in surprise. "Wonder what that's all about," Ron shook his head in amusement.

Malfoy had stood up abruptly, his stature depicting one who was ready to duel, his eyes dark with rage, as he walked over and jabbed his wand into Blaise's back.

"Get up," she heard him order with such malice it was frightening. Hermione could feel her heart beat accelerate as the blood pumping through her system caused her ear drums to throb in anticipation. They watched Blaise stand slowly, his eyes down-cast, his jaw-clenched as he turned to face his newly estranged friend.

"What do you think you're doing?" she heard Blaise growl, his temper equalling that of the Head Boy. Slytherins never showed such emotion, and here they were, the two most inscrutable and controlled, creating a scene in front of the whole school. Hermione knew that none of the other Slytherins would dare intervene.

"Where do you get off meddling? I warned you already, only to find out that you're still trying?" Draco bit out, loud enough for Hermione to make sense of what he was saying. To anyone else, Malfoy was vague enough to elicit confused shrugs from bystanders. To Hermione, it was crystal clear. Without realising, she had stood up from her seat, "where you going, Hermione?" she heard Harry ask, and walked in the direction of the perpetrator, ignoring the heated whispers of surprise and puzzled glances.

She walked up behind Malfoy, catching Blaise's attention as he sent her a warning look not to get involved. She ignored it, naturally. "Malfoy, put your wand down," she ordered, her voice clear. "You're the Head Boy for goodness sake!"

She could not see his face, but the acid tone of his voice said it all. "Granger," he drawled icily. The hall went quiet as he turned to face her. It was perhaps an unfortunate thing that no professors were present this evening due to a staff meeting. "Always, Granger," he repeated, a sudden sign of resignation crossing his features. Hermione stood her ground.

"Malfoy, whatever you and Blaise need to discuss, do it outside," she continued, superficially unfazed by his leering attention. To anyone else, it would appear that he was mocking her presence. Up close, she could see that his eyes betrayed his expression, their blackness stirring unwanted feelings within her. Why was it that she _reacted_ to _him?_ He brought his wand up and pointed it at her. Hermione faltered slightly.

"Scared, Granger?" he teased. She could not take break away from his gaze, like a magnetic force was once gain drawing her to him. He stepped closer, ever so slightly, her eyes widened.

"Bad idea, Draco," she heard Blaise caution.

"Malfoy, you better think twice about how outnumbered you are right about now." It was Harry. Hermione's trance was broken and she turned to see him standing next to her, Ron standing next to him, and a few other Gryffindors from her year level behind Ron. All with their wands pointed at the Head boy. Malfoy turned his attention to Harry, narrowing his eyes before breaking out into a manic grin.

"Why, if it isn't the whole Gryffindork pack," he bit out. "Lions move in packs don't they, Granger?" He turned back to face Hermione, bringing his wand down before abruptly leaning in further. She could feel his breath on her cheek. "Granger, do they know what they're even protecting you from?" he whispered, for her ears only. Hermione's mouth dried up instantly, as she stepped back and glared at the Head boy. He smirked, before turning to Blaise.

"This isn't over, Zabini," he threatened before turning and storming out. The whole room stared after him as the doors to the Great Hall shut behind him, ending the startling incident.

Hermione looked at Blaise, he nodded back discreetly. She understood his gratitude but could see his discomfort as he glanced at Harry and Ron before sitting down. She felt Harry's hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Hermione? What possessed you to come over here?" Harry asked.

She turned to face him, slightly frustrated. "I am the Head Girl, you know. It is my job to thwart conflict, no matter whose." He regarded her silently for a moment.

"Okay, Hermione, just be careful how you go about it next time." He turned and ushered for the others to head back to the Gryffindor table, leaving Hermione standing alone. Fed up by the melodrama, she turned and walked towards the great doors, her eyes betraying her as she glanced at the Ravenclaw table and caught Lisa Turpin staring at her with an expression of interest. Hermione could see the Ravenclaw's mind reeling behind those eyes. She quickly looked away, picking up the pace and rushing out of the hall, the doors shutting definitively behind her.

There was only one place she could escape to, her fourth floor hide away.

* * *

A/N: Well well, a set up of things to come! Revelations and new developments...don't know about you, but even I am on tenterhooks! :p


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Welcome back to another chappie! The Head Boy and Girl are certainly running into all sorts of dilemmas. Some more revelations in store for Hermione. How will she handle one Draco Malfoy this time? Enjoy!**

___________________________________________________________

Hermione ran up the stairs to the fourth floor, reaching the deserted hallway in record time. She walked to the end, turning off into the domain of her hideaway, and hurriedly moved passed the classroom that had become a Slytherin halfway house for the rat pack. It was unusually dark, the faint glimmer of the door handle to her private library guiding her along.

She felt responsible; her admission to Draco that morning had to have been the driving reason for him to react that way in front of the whole student body. She wondered if Blaise still intended to meet her after dinner? Surely the unexpected confrontation put a damper on things. Besides, the book was in her bedroom.

Hermione was mere feet from the door when she heard a rustling sound. She stopped, frozen in place as her head scanned the vicinity, her breaths short as she was still recovering from her sporadic burst of exercise. To be safe, she pulled out her wand, whispering, "_lumos_," to brighten her line of sight. Her periphery caught a small mouse scurrying across the hall as it disappeared into the blackness. She sighed upon detecting the source of the noise and brought her gaze up to the door, closing the distance. She reached out, placing her hand on the cool surface.

She pressed down, releasing the lock, and stepped into the room.

Eager for brightness, Hermione flicked her wand to light the lanterns around room, filling the space with a soothing hum as they sparked into life. Everything was just as she left it, yet she felt slightly unnerved by the isolation that the darker hallway surrounded her with.

The eeriness of the fourth floor had gotten to her.

Only then did she realise her tactlessness in switching the lighting on before shutting herself in. It was almost as if her subconscious was trying to alert her to something, for when she turned to shut the door, her stomach flipped and she almost swallowed her tongue in fear as a set of ice drawn eyes stared back at her, shaped by a silhouette of ash blond strands, appearing almost bodiless, as the black of his robes absorbed into the darkness surrounding him.

Her lungs deflated as she exhaled in defeat, too shocked for words.

His eyes remained fixed on her.

Her immediate reaction was to rid herself of those eyes by shutting the door.

A pale hand came up to stop her, the force pushing her back.

Without comment, he stepped inside.

The trespass killed her spirit.

The silence around them was interrupted by his voice, "Granger," he simply stated, his tone holding no sign of emotion. He stood under the doorway, scanning the room before resting his eyes on her once again. "Looks like we both have something to hide. In your case: somewhere."

Hermione remain quiet. He walked over to the arm chair and sat down; running his hands over the velvet arm rests. "It's no bean bag, but I can see the appeal," he observed casually, resting his head on the back of the chair, his stature relaxed. Hermione was beyond puzzled. Wasn't he about to perform an unforgivable on his own house mate only minutes earlier?

"You know, I could never work out why you came up here so much, and I can now see the reason you drank the potion to avoid sacrificing your secret. A good little secret Granger. One that a little bookworm like yourself would revel in. I mean, look at _that_, your own private library." He shook his head, grinning wolfishly back at her. She felt her eyes narrow.

"Now that's no way to treat a guest, Granger." He crossed one leg over the other, his growing comfort factor analogous to the grating effect he had on her on her nerves.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She finally bit out.

He ignored her. "You know, I felt you approach us in the Great Hall. Even with my back turned, I knew it was you," He offered vaguely, brandishing a hand as he spoke, his bare arm exposed as his robe sleeves bunched up.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Especially since your protective anger was so prominent, it was practically seeping from your pores. I'm sure Zabini appreciated your rescue," he spat out. "I can feel him react to you, too. The closer I am to you, the worse it is," he added with sudden resignation.

He was making no sense. "Malfoy, what are you –"

"I came up here to clear my head, Granger. The fourth floor has a desolate ambience that I have been drawn to lately. It seems to help… rid my mind of disturbing thoughts. Imagine my surprise when the very thing I am trying to escape from decides to creep right back in?" his tone becoming fiercer with every sentence.

Hermione took a step forward. "Don't. come. any. closer." He warned, his voice strained a slight alarm apparent in his eyes. She had hardly moved! What was his problem? Hermione was no longer angry.

"Malfoy, maybe you should go to the hospital wing?" she drew out slowly, tyring to mask the sudden concern she felt. He stood up abruptly.

"I can't!" he thundered, his fists clenched. She felt a wave of fear overcome her. He was too unpredictable for her to be able to anticipate his next move like she once could. Hermione raised her hands in half-hearted surrender.

"Malfoy, please…" she whispered.

"Granger, why won't you get out of my head?" He suddenly asked in earnest.

She was too stunned. Not only because of the nature of his admission, but because she felt the same way. He had plagued her mind since that day in the classroom. Perhaps even before that. He must have sensed the flicker of recognition in her eyes, as he smirked.

He walked over to the bookshelf, scanning the titles, "you too, huh?" he asked, his back to her. She shrugged lamely, knowing that he couldn't see.

"Granger, I think I'm going mad," he exhaled loudly in his admission, his shoulders slumped slightly.

Fair enough that thinking about her was highly unusual, but to attribute it to madness, slightly offended her. "And, what do you want me to do about it, Malfoy?" she snapped. He turned to face her, seemingly struggling with something. He walked over to her, tentatively, as if the closing distance brought him physical pain.

"I need you…to help me…forget," he finally let out as he stood right in front of her. She felt herself being inexplicably drawn to him once again, like they were magically bound by a rope, squeezing them closer at an exponential rate. It was so much worse than the last time. She could not look at face; instead, her eyes were fixed on his shirt collar that was now apparent through his robes.

"Granger," he practically growled. She covered her face with her hands.

"Malfoy, please leave," she was practically begging him, her voice muffled behind her hands as she exhaled, the steam of her breath warming her face behind them.

She felt a hand rest over hers; it made her shudder as he drew them away from her face. Her defences were crumbling as he brought her hands up to his shoulders and rested them there. A sigh of relief escaped his lips at the contact. She looked up at him, surprised, his eyes were shut, his lips parted slightly, as if her touch was healing.

From where she was standing, Malfoy had never appeared so vulnerable, his hair washing over his eyes, his expression candid. It was the strangest sensation, for she found herself mimicking his breathing pattern, feeling compelled to draw him closer.

Against all common sense, Hermione stepped in, pressing her body right up to his, drawing her arms around his neck, as she rested her head against his solid chest. She could hear Malfoy's heart rate speed up, as his hands came around to her waist, wrapping them tightly around her rather possessively.

If there was ever a sight to behold, it was Hermione and Malfoy hugging in the middle her private library. She could only imagine how Harry would react. Yet, the relief it brought was worth it; a hazy fog in her mind clearing at the contact. If it was anything to go by, she could only imagine the gravity of Draco's mental state.

A small laugh escaped her. She felt Malfoy stiffen.

"What?" The sound of his voice resonated through her body as she felt him speak.

"You really have gone mad." She replied matter-of-factly. He remained silent. "But then again, so have I," she finished. And with that, she brought her lips up to his neck, and kissed it, before gently sucking. She heard him groan in response, which only drove her to increase her pressure. She eventually pulled away, untangling her arms from his neck, and bringing them around behind her to loosen his hold. She stepped back, her arms at her sides, admiring her handiwork. Malfoy appeared genuinely bemused as he brought his hand up to cover the mark.

"What was that for?"

"Payback." He smirked before nodding. The next moment could not have been more awkward. Now that their senses had been tamed, the longevity of it unknown, they avoided each other's gazes.

"So, are you going to apologise to Blaise?" Hermione suddenly asked. He looked at her in surprise, almost as if had forgotten all about that.

"Shit," he muttered, as he combed his fingers through his hair.

"You reckon?" she mocked back.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he paced about the room in realisation. Hermione was feeling rather used to his sporadic loss of equanimity and merely shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh, and another thing, please try not to moan my name when you're with another girl, it's highly disturbing." He stopped dead, and just stared at her agape.

"I did no such thing!" he thundered.

"Lisa Turpin seems to think you did." Hermione was really enjoying his reaction. He mumbled something but she couldn't make out his words. It was all very amusing despite its incongruous nature.

"You're just loving this, aren't you Granger?"

"That's no the way I would phrase it," she frowned. The prat was causing her all sorts of trouble. "Malfoy, there is nothing I would like more than for you to stay away from me." Did she really mean that? He grinned menacingly, she could see him formulating a response that would turn the tables.

"Really, Granger?" He stepped closer to her again. "What about now?" He took one step at a time, eyeing her expectantly. It was no use; she could feel the undeniable pull in her stomach escalating once more.

"Stop!" she yelled.

"I thought so," he tilted his head to one side, his voice husky. "Multiply that feeling, and you have one totally off the wall head boy who has no chance in hell at playing quidditch tomorrow, which was the instigator of all this crap in the first place." She felt a wave of pity for him. Clearly, a mere hug had very little impact.

"What happens if you don't play?"

"We forfeit, Potter wins. Bet he'd love that!"

She frowned, "Don't pretend to know what Harry likes. I think he would want you to give it your best in your last match against each other."

"Then you can't turn up to the match." Malfoy stated definitively.

"How do you suppose I pull that one off?"

"I don't know, fake an illness, hex yourself?" She glared back at him.

"This is all your fault. I am a victim here."

"Okay, I admit it was my idea to take the potion, but this extra baggage with you, never came until you drank it! How was I to know?"

"It's called doing your homework! Who else besides Blaise, has taken it? They'll probably be suffering a variation of the same effect."

"Nott." He exhaled.

Hermione pursed her lips.

"What?" he demanded. Hermione was afraid to mention it. "Don't tell me he's after you too now? Fucking hell, Granger, you are going to make an example of us all!"

She hardly knew what Nott's agenda was. "How dare you!" she practically shrieked back. She could feel the tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "For a moment there I was willing to help you, just get out Malfoy."

"I don't think so, Granger. You can't just renege on your offer. That would be very Slytherin of you." She glared at him, and before she could realise, he had walked right up to her, had tucked a hand behind her neck and had bent down to kiss her squarely on the lips. This was so not what she had in mind as a means for aiding his _problem_. She gasped against his lips, which only gave him access to her mouth. His tongue in her mouth sent shivers down her spine, and before she could make sense of it all, Hermione was responding.

The hunger of his kisses made her legs weak. Hermione brought her hands up to his face, pulling him closer, as he brought one arm around her waist, tightening his hold on her. There they were once again, pressed up against each other, locked in a moment of unequivocal passion, one that was certainly unprecedented between two such unlikely individuals.

The dizzying effect he had on her left Hermione in an almost collapsed state against him, as Malfoy's hand wandered from her waist around to the front, slipping under her robes. She brought her own hands around to the base of his neck as she combed her fingers through his hair. It always surprised her how soft it was. She broke away for air, her lips tingling from the pressure. She was fearful of meeting his gaze, but he surprised her instead with kisses to her cheek, along her jaw line, down her neck.

"Malfoy," she whispered, trying to perhaps draw his attention to what was going on.

"Hmmm?" he murmured against her skin. She figured it was enough evidence that he was aware of his actions. She could feel his arousal against her lower abdomen, and she was instantly reminded of the bold exchange that had taken place in the dreaded classroom.

"Stop," she whispered. It just didn't feel right to be doing this in her private domain. It would forever be tainted. Malfoy pulled back, staring down at her.

"Don't get all prudish on me, Granger," he said, a hint of mirth present in his voice as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Shut-up, Malfoy," she retorted before smiling at the ridiculousness of the conversation.

"Well, I was doing a good job of it until you interrupted me!" he teased. Hermione blushed. Malfoy really did have a split personality.

"Oh, and now you're acting all nice to me?" she retorted. "One minute, I'm making an example of you, and now you want to..." she waved her hands unable to finish the sentence.

Malfoy chuckled.

"Granger, surely you realise by now that the two don't go hand in hand. I don't have to like you to want you. Besides, I believe I am suffering from a severe side effect of a highly volatile potion, as you so eloquently put it."

Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. She could not help but dwell on his admission of wanting her as she stared at the tall, broad shouldered, blond guy before her.

"So here is what I propose. Until we sort this whole ordeal out, and so I can successfully challenge Potter tomorrow, and also avoid rather uncharacteristic fits of rage in the Great Hall, or slips of the _tongue_ while engaged with others, you and I come to an arrangement of sorts."

"I'm having a difficult time tyring to see how I can get out of this one," she snapped.

"Exactly," he nodded. "Besides, this helps you out too, Granger, even if it is just to save face." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, Malfoy, as long as you don't step foot in here again."

"Fine, as long as you don't keep the door open so I can actually see it."

"Fine," she mentally berated herself for her own mistake.

Malfoy gestured her over to the desk where he promptly sad down on the armchair and leant over the desk. Hermione recalled the last time she had used the room, and in bold realisation, she rushed over and saw the piece of parchment on which she had written the pros and cons of one Draco Malfoy. He had not yet noticed it, and she hastily grabbed it from the table, distressed at the possibility of him seeing such pros as '_fortitude'_ which she had stupidly written.

"What's that?" He seemed interested by her panic stricken face. Hermione walked over to the bookshelf and promptly placed the parchment between two books.

"That, is none of your business." She turned around and stated sternly.

"Been writing love notes, Granger?" he mocked.

"Hardly," she snorted.

"Wow, Granger, you really are all class," he jibed, shaking his head, as he pulled out a piece of parchment and grabbed a quill – a green one at that. Hermione scowled.

"Just hurry up, Malfoy, I don't want to be here all night with you." He looked up at her and winked.

"Why, I could make it worth your while?"

"Ugh, you are such a skeaze!" She wasn't sure if he would understand the muggle slang she had picked up from her cousin last summer.

"A what?"

"Nevermind. Can we get on with it?" He just looked at her suggestively. "Seriously, Malfoy, I don't know what's more annoying, you teasing me and making my life difficult, or you acting all sleazy around me."

"I do both very well, Granger, so I can see your dilemma." He flicked the quill through his fingers. She rolled her eyes.

"Alright, Malfoy, what are your terms?" The room was rather cold, and she lit the fire, sitting on the plush rug sideways so that Malfoy was on her right, the fireplace on her left, her legs sprawled out, her hands splayed behind her to support her slanted posture. She could hear him scribing.

"Oh, the usual, contact with the woman I so desire, for reasons beyond my control, assistance in finding a cure, that you avoid Blaise and, to be safe, Nott, so that I don't get all possessive and suffer another jealous fit of rage, and that I see you before the quidditch match tomorrow." Hermione blanched. It was too much.

She took a deep breath and spoke, her eyes focused on the dancing flames. "These are conditional upon the following, that you stop taking the potion, that you exercise self control, you don't cause trouble when it comes to Head duties, you tell your goons to back off, you treat me with civility, you leave Blaise and Nott alone, I can't just stop talking to them but will keep it to a minimum, and that you stop when I want you to."

She exhaled, turning her head to look at Malfoy, who appeared to be writing all this down. The shadows inflicted from the fire fell over him, and her breath hitched as she considered it quite attractive. She definitely had a couple of loose wires of late.

Malfoy sat back, resting the quill on the desk, and looked up at her, catching her staring. She quickly looked back at the fire. How obvious! She internally groaned.

"Okay, Granger, wanna read over it before we sign it."

"Who said anything about signing anything?"

"I need to be sure that you won't renege."

"That's hardly necessary, Malfoy, after all I have conditions too."

"Just get over here and read it." Hermione stood up, brushing her robes and walked up to the desk, standing opposite the Head Boy. He looked at her, before flipping the parchment around so she could confirm its contents. Her eyes scanned over it.

"Can you take out, 'woman I so desire' and put my name. Who knows how many women you _desire_ Malfoy." She cringed at the thought.

"Touché, Granger." He crossed it out dramatically.

"Perhaps we should address consent?"

"Granger, I don't run without consent. You of all people should know that." He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms defiantly. Hermione grabbed the quill and inserted 'upon consent'. "Just so you know Malfoy, this arrangement does not mean sex."

"Yeah, yeah, just acts of a sexual nature to appease our dilemma." His voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey, I haven't signed anything yet," she warned. "So, in case of breach, what should happen?"

"Hmmm, well do we keep this between us, or do we go public in our humiliation?"

"I'd prefer to keep this between us, and it has to be something that would be unfavourable for both of us, equally terrible." They pondered for a moment.

"The person in breach must step down from their Head position." Hermione stared at him, bug-eyed. That certainly was something they both treasured equally and unequivocally. She nodded slowly, accepting the idea.

"Okay," she agreed. Malfoy turned the parchment to face him, writing the dreaded line, 'non-performance of the agreement by either party shall result in the renouncement of Head position.' Hermione cringed at the words. Malfoy dipped the quill in ink once more and signed his name. He shifted the parchment back to her handing over the quill. She took it, and dutifully signed her name as well. She had never signed a magical contract, so she had no idea what came next. Malfoy took out his wand.

"Your wand, Granger," he prompted. She reached into her robe pocket and pulled it out. "Now, press the tip over your name and say _serment_. This seals the deal." She hesitated at first, but did as she was directed. He in turn did the same.

"Well that took a bit of courage," he said suddenly. Hermione scrunched up her face at his attempt to joke. "I'll see you later, Granger. Don't stay here too long." Draco stood up, fixed his robes and walked out, leaving one very flabbergasted Hermione in his wake.

* * *

A/N: Well, quite a few revelations from one Draco Malfoy! Is Hermione in too deep in her arrangment? What of Blaise, of Nott, of quidditch! :p


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Finally, I have got my act together and posted the update - quite a substantial one too. There was a little pre-thought required, as I had reached a point where I could take this in a few directions, as I had not yet decided. I hope I haven't taken an angsty approach, I am trying to maitain the tone of humour. Would love to hear your take on it. Enjoy!**

**__________________________________________**

Hermione stared down at Malfoy's signature on the parchment. There was no turning back on such a grave momentary lapse of judgment. A contract between two individuals who harboured a long standing animosity for each other carried many risks, and it was written on paper. She risked losing her head position, and her dignity along with it.

Hermione grabbed the parchment, glaring at it before shoving it in one of the desk draws, out of sight. It was safest in here, she reasoned, although it tainted the notion of escapism that drew her to her private hideaway in the first place. How could such a clear cut understanding of mutual resentment have become so skewed?

She leant back in the velvet chair, staring absently at figures in the tapestry on the opposite wall. The two figures in the foreground to the right seemed different. She forcefully blinked a few times trying to re-adjust her focus in case her eyes deceived her.

"Great, now I'm seeing things," she mumbled, standing up from the seat. She walked over to inspect it more closely. To date, Hermione had taken the tapestry for granted, accepting its presence and paying it little attention. But, as she stood before its illuminated imagery, scrutinizing the figures, something was definitely different. The threading of the two wizards in the foreground appeared sharper, the colour more vibrant. The one on her left was facing the man on the right, his expression solemn, austere. The other wizard on the right was facing her, his eyes downcast, his focus seemingly on her. She stepped to the left trying to escape it. His eyes followed her. Frowning, Hermione let her gaze fall over his body, down the curve of his arms which hung loosely by his sides. Her eyes stopped. She stepped even closer, the tip of her nose mere inches from the surface, so that she could see the individual threads overlapping each other.

For, in his hand furthest away from the other wizard, was a piece of parchment. She could just make out the script.

_Reprisal subsists in the line of the Rose _

She stared up at the figure; his expression shrewd. She was beyond confused. She looked back at the wizard on the left, his robes possessed the quality of fine fabric that came with great expense, and his features assumed an uncanny resemblance to…she frowned in realisation.

It was Draco Malfoy, personified.

"I don't believe it," she muttered in disbelief. The bloody Slytherin had stepped foot in her domain _once_ and she had a permanent reminder of him right in front of her. She reached out to poke him in spite. The figures remained unmoved.

Hermione turned on her heel and went back to her armchair, slumping into it in defeat.

"Can't anything be clear?" she questioned aloud, glancing at the shrinking flames in the fireplace. All these cryptic clues and no concrete answers. To top it off, she had one Draco Malfoy permanently affixed into the deco of her hideaway, not to mention, her conscience.

There was no doubt it her mind that the Malfoy's presence in her Gryffindor hub had disrupted the order of things. It had probably sensed the magic of their contract. That unforgiving agreement that she was now bound to until…well…there was no specific end. It was all based on their ability to resolve their current predicament.

Sighing in defeat, Hermione stood up and walked out of the tainted safe haven. The fourth floor hallway was pitch black, and despite her earlier unease, she had reached the point in the day where nothing more would surprise her should it hit her in the face. Casting a _lumos_ spell, she made her way back to her head digs with a determined pace.

* * *

The knight at the entrance of the portrait hole was nowhere to be seen. How on earth was she supposed to get in? "Hello?" she called out, hoping to bring back the knight, whilst knocking at the same time on the hard canvas in a vain attempt to attract the attention of the Head boy. She didn't even know if he was in there. Feeling downtrodden, she slumped herself against the wall, and decided she would wait a while.

Minutes passed, and Hermione could feel the chill emanating from the stone walls. She wrapped her robes around her tightly, bringing her knees up to her chest to trap any warmth. It almost felt like everything was running against her, and of all the times she needed to actually be in her head digs, the knight had run off on her. How could she have possibly accounted for this contingency?

Decidedly, Hermione stood up and made her way to Gryffindor tower. A few people were sitting around, quietly chatting in the common room but none of the quidditch players were about. The space was already decorated for the game tomorrow, drawing out a buzz of anticipation, which only served to heighten her anxiety. She had to make sure she saw Malfoy before the game tomorrow. The only thing left for her to do, was to get some sleep. She made her way to her old dorm room, gently knocking.

"Come, in," she heard some yell, and opened the door. Lavender, Pavarti were sitting on the floor flicking through magazines, with a pool of confectionary in the middle.

"Hermione!" Lavender exclaimed. They were both surprised to see her.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione started, feeling somewhat guilty since she had hardly spent any time with them lately, and was now seeking out their help. "Do you guys mind if I sleep in my old bed tonight?" She could hear her tone in her voice, it sounded almost dejected, without meaning to be at all. It didn't help seeing the girls just spending time chatting, eating chocolate, and having a laugh, while she was busy fighting off Slytherin prats, and feeling suffocated by one unrelenting potion and one stupid contract. Both girls looked at each other before Lavender spoke.

"Of course, Hermione, is everything ok?"

She blamed what happened next on the sincerity in Lavender's voice. That did it, Hermione burst into tears. A perfect girls night in. She felt so pathetic, and really didn't want to be pitied. Pavarti and Lavender both stood up, coming over to comfort her and walking her to her old bed. It only made the tears fall harder.

"Hermione, just let it out, whatever it is, you'll feel better after a decent cry," Pavarti soothed as she rubbed her back.

Hermione felt so pathetic, her emotions had gone haywire. Gone was the controlled, rational strategist. She was acting like such a…well…_girl,_ and while it was highly abnormal, Pavarti was right, there was something rather cathartic about letting it all out.

Finally, Hermione, calmed down, managing to overcome those exhausting sobs and control her breathing. "Sorry you had to see me like this, I don't know what came over me," she tried to reason, ashamed. Of course, Lavender and Pavarti would have none of it.

"Hermione, stop being so strong willed all the time, it's okay to just cry for no real reason, or because everything is falling apart. Lavender is a right sook, and I am always complaining or whinging, the whole school knows my problems! You on the other hand, always have it so together," Pavarti re-assured. Hermione shrugged. If only they knew how she really felt. The old Hermione might have had it all together, but she realised that she had been internalising all her problems for quite a while, to the point where not even Harry or Ron had a clue about anything.

"Do you ever wish you could just take something back, or that things would just resolve themselves on their own?" Hermione asked reflectively.

"You have no idea!" Lavender exclaimed as if it was common knowledge. Hermione stifled a laugh. "It's Pavarti's most used phrase, _I wish I'd never… _blah blah. We all do stupid things now and then, some never seem to go away, and others stuff, well, you'll laugh about it in hindsight, eventually."

"For example, Dean," Pavarti stated pointedly. This time Hermione did laugh. "Hermione, the best way to get over something, is to get through it, and with the help of friends, not alone." Pavarti stated.

"So, is it guy troubles?" Lavender queried carefully. Hermione turned to her, wondering how best to phrase it. She needed to get some of it out of her system.

"Slytherin troubles," she sighed.

Lavender raised her brow with interest. "When you say Slytherin, do you mean Malfoy and Head duties, or multiple Slytherins, or are you just upset because such a house like Slytherin exists with hot guys that we can't touch?" Pavarti laughed at the latter reference.

"Who says anything about not touching? Just ask Romilda about Theo Nott." Both Lavender and Hermione turned to Pavarti, stunned.

"What?" Lavender was in a state of disbelief. "Romilda and Nott?"

"Yep," Pavarti nodded smugly for being privy to such information.

"That has just opened up a whole can of worms. How did you find out?" Lavender questioned.

"I walked in on them in a study carrel, I thought it was free. Now, _that_ is something I wish I could take back!" Pavarti joked. "It's been eaten away at me keeping it a secret for so long."

"Not such a secret anymore," Hermione pointed. They all laughed. It was somewhat relieving to hear that Hermione wasn't the only one fraternising with the enemy, so to speak.

"So, Hermione, is it any Slytherin in particular?" Pavarti asked. Hermione could see the raw eagerness in her face. It was rather amusing that she now found herself the topic of conversation with the gossip queens.

"Pavarti, promise me you will keep this to yourself. This stays between us." Hermione pressed.

"That was only because not even Lavender knew, and I did last a good few months!" Pavarti defended animatedly.

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, ok, but is kind of complicated," she offered hesitantly.

"Does this have anything to do with Malfoy and Blaise at dinner?" Lavender suddenly asked Hermione. She was smarter than one expected and Hermione paled at the mention. She didn't know where to start or what to divulge, merely nodding. She could see Lavender and Pavarti look at each other, intrigued at what she could possibly be keeping secret.

Hermione sighed. "Well, as I said, it's kind of complicated. Blaise is my potions partner, and he…well…he recently…well he likes me." She could see their jaws drop. It felt weird admitting it. "And, uhm, Malfoy kind of found out, which is why he's angry at Blaise. You know, Slytherin protocol and all," Hermione knew it sounded lame, but she could not really say much more without going into the whole drama about Malfoy. She wasn't ready to announce that aspect of her life to _anyone_.

"Blaise likes you?" Lavender repeated excitedly. Hermione nodded, it felt strange hearing it from someone else. "How, when? Tell me everything!"

Hermione shrugged, thinking of how best to explain it. "We've been getting on well lately, and I guess it just happened. I didn't believe it at first but then he just came out and said it to me."

"Has anything happened between you? How did Malfoy find out?" Pavarti questioned.

"Well, you know how you walked in on Nott and Romilda? Same kind of scenario."

"You and Blaise have slept together?" Pavarti interrogated, wide eyed, jaw hanging.

"NO! No, no, we've just kissed," Hermione could feel her cheeks burn. Nott and Romilda had slept together? She was finding out all sorts of things.

"Hermione, Blaise is hot! Those eyes just make you melt, and he's so mysterious and dark." Lavender squealed. Hermione was not used to this kind of enthusiasm. She smiled meekly.

"Well, do you like him back?" Pavarti asked. Hermione furrowed her brow at the question. So many things impeded on any possible development between her and Blaise, she had not really given it much thought. And, then there was the issue of Malfoy, who had the ability to make her forget about everything logical. But, that was not genuine either. Or, was it? She had so many mounting issues, and Malfoy's admission earlier was just another puzzling piece to the whole shambles.

"Yeah, I do," she admitted, realising that all things aside, she did in fact find herself attracted to him, and genuinely like him as a person.

"Well, what's the problem then? Screw Malfoy, just because he's the Head boy doesn't mean he holds reign. I'm sure Blaise can put him in place anyway, he looked mighty angry at dinner." Lavender reflected.

Hermione knew she was right on some level, but it was oh so much more convoluted. She signed aloud. "It's hard because I share a common room with him, and we work together. I don't want to make it harder than it already is. Malfoy is the bane of my existence, as you know."

"He really hates you, doesn't he? I mean, to get that angry about it…not mention the look he gave you when you intervened."

"That's just the half of it," she admitted truthfully. Their relationship had surpassed the simple black and white.

"I say, it's none of his damn business. The way he's acting, if its just because of that, makes him look jealous." Hermione inhaled, shell shocked at the conclusion Pavarti had reached.

"I doubt it, Pavarti, it's just Slytherin bias," she redirected.

"Too bad he's such a prat," Lavender spoke up, "the combination of his bad boy image and his perfect looks makes it so hard to hate him all the time," her eyes had a dreamy look about them.

Pavarti reached over and shoved the dazed Gryffindor in reprimand. "Lavender, how can you say that after all he's putting Hermione through?"

"Sorry, Hermione, but a girl is allowed to look," she shrugged apologetically. Hermione laughed nervously.

"Thanks, you've both really made me feel better," she admitted. Despite her limited divulgement of the finer details, a definite weight had been lifted.

"Anytime Hermione, just know we are totally on your side." Hermione nodded. "And we can always egg things along with Blaise. We are quite the strategists when it comes to engaging the opposite sex." Lavender raised her eyebrows suggestively. Hermione smiled. It was all so ridiculous, but she knew they meant well.

"I'll let you borrow some PJ's, I can't believe you're still wearing your uniform," Pavarti shook her head as she stood up and walked to her side of the room.

"I'm so excited about the match tomorrow!" Lavender jumped off the bed and wandered to hers.

"It's definitely going to be eventful," Hermione replied pensively.

She changed and washed her face, before settling into the comforts of her old bed. It was difficult to fall asleep though, thinking of what was to come tomorrow. Her badge was at stake, which meant her livelihood was practically on the line. The steady breathing of her dorm mates finally calmed her as she drifted into sleep.

* * *

Hermione awoke to an empty sunlit dorm room. The others had left, the window curtains had been drawn back, the evidence of the midmorning apparent. Hermione rubbed her eyes blindly, before sitting up. She hand no sense of time and her eyes wandered around the room in search of some clock instrument. Lavender's bedside clock read, '10:00'.

Hermione's senses were instantly heightened.

The first thought that came to her mind was that she needed to get to her dorm room. How could she have slept in so much? The game started in an hour. Tossing the bed covers off, Hermione grabbed her school robe and put it on over the pyjamas she had borrowed from Pavarti. Her hair was dishevelled; she could feel the nest on her head as she hastily tied it back, away from her face. She picked up her clothes off the floor, and rushed out of the dorm room, down the steps to the buzzing common room.

Everyone was in their house colours, some sporting self made paraphernalia. She spotted Ron and Harry, who had attracted a crowd of well wishers. She pushed through, ignoring the strange looks her half dressed state and bed hair was attracting.

"Harry, Ron!"

"Hermione?" Ron was confused as to her state of dress. She quickly had to explain herself to avoid any presumptions being made.

"Where've you been?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I slept in my old dorm room last night," she corrected hotly, not enjoying the looks they were giving her. "I'm just going to get changed. I'll see you down there!"

"Wait, aren't you going to walk down with us?" Ron interjected. In her distracted haste, she failed to remember one crucial thing about quidditch matches against Slytherin. It was tradition for the three of them to walk down to the pitch together, and for Hermione to forget such a thing, was a clear sign of her frazzled state. She could practically see Harry's thought process as he eyed her in the same way she would whenever they'd asked for last minute homework help.

"Of course, I need to change first. I just meant I would meet you in the Great Hall," she quickly covered up.

"You've got half an hour, I need to get the team together beforehand," Harry directed.

Hermione nodded, "I won't be long, I promise." She practically ran back to the head quarters.

"Where were you last night?" she seethed at the knight. He lifted his visor and stuck his nose in the air. "How dare you speak to Sir Flatly in that way? I had a previous engagement that I could not miss. The tradition of the Templar is far more important than standing here to cater to your late night entries. The Head boy is much worse mind you." Hermione rolled her eyes at the ostentatious manner of the head digs' guardian.

"Forgive me, Sir Flatly, my mistake, but some prior warning of your engagement would be _most_ helpful in future," she responded with an equally haughty tone. The knight harrumphed before dropping his visor and letting her through without the password. It was a small sacrifice on his part, but she took it as acquiescence.

Once inside, Hermione ran to Malfoy's bedroom door and knocked loudly.

No response.

The dilemma of seeking him out _and_ walking to the pitch with her friends left her in a state of flux. She rushed to her room, and into the shower. practically still half dressed. Her hair was so knotted, she was thankful for her muggle conditioner. She dried her hair, changed, grabbed her school scarf, and bolted down to the Great Hall. Breathless, she made her way to the Gryffindor table, all the while scanning the Slytherin side of the hall.

Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey guys," she sat down next to Harry and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. She was so thirsty, she drank it in one breath.

"That was quick," Ron muttered, he was looking slightly nervous.

"You ok, Ron?" she replied, setting her glass down.

"Yeah, just pre-game jitters, happens all the time," he dismissed.

"And, every time, you come out fine, I don't know what you get so worked up about," Harry reassured. Hermione nudged him, he was so blunt sometimes.

"Harry, everyone handles pressure differently. This is why Ron comes out fine, he needs that bit of nervousness."

"Doesn't look like a bit to me," Harry muttered under his breath. Typical of the Captain to be so confident, but then again, he had every reason to be.

"Shall we go?" Hermione asked.

"Why are you so eager?" Ron questioned.

"The quicker you get out there, the sooner you'll calm down, Ron."

"Hermione's right. Once you see familiar territory, you'll feel much more relaxed. Plus, I need to organise my protective gear." Harry agreed. He stood up, Hermione and Ron followed. She gave Ron a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Ron, you're a great keeper, just go out there and have fun." He smiled meekly.

The trio made there way down to the quidditch pitch. Hermione did her best to remain cheerful and carefree around her friends, she felt so guilty for her selfish hidden agendas, but all she could focus on was finding Malfoy before the match started. They reached the Gryffindor change rooms, chatting idly for a few minutes.

"Good luck, Harry, Ron, you guys will be great." She gave them both a hug, holding on to Harry a little longer, perhaps trying to make-up for her lack of honesty with him of late.

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron replied, before they disappeared inside.

Caught in a moment of indecision, Hermione turned toward the Slytherin end. Acting impulsively, a clear sign of despeartion, she decided to head over there. It didn't help that she had her Gryffindor colours on as Slytherins loitered about chatting to friends in the team.

Spotting Blaise, she decided he was her safest bet at a reason for being in the vicinity. Hermione walked over to him. He was leaning against a nearby flag post. Lavender was right; he looked very handsome in his quidditch gear, broom in hand. He saw her and stood upright.

"Hi," she waved slightly as she approached. She hated her sheepish tone; it almost suggested she was harbouring guilt. Really, she was.

"Hi, pretty brave of you to head over here before the big game," he spoke seriously. Hermione suddenly felt like she had made a huge mistake, until he cracked a smile. She exhaled and smiled back. "So, ready to lose?" he teased.

Hermione snorted lightly, "I think not!" He laughed. "I thought you were serious about quidditch?" she questioned, confused at his light hearted state of being.

"Lately, I am of the mind set that everything is fleeting. And, frankly, who wins this game is at the bottom of the list. That is not to say I won't go out there and beat the hell out of your team, tradition binds us after all." He smirked devilishly.

Hermione nodded, shifting slightly. He regarded her momentarily, his expression shifting from his overtly facetious temperament.

"I didn't come to the fourth floor after dinner; I thought it best to lie low for the evening. Don't exactly want Draco throwing the bludger at me." Hermione laughed at the mental image that flashed in her mind.

"That was probably best. It was quite the scene, after all," she replied. "Have you spoken since?" she asked hesitently.

"If a menacing stare accounts as communication, then yes. He's in the change rooms, taking his sweet time. I hope he realises the game is starting in ten minutes. He hasn't even debriefed the team, like he usual does."

Her eyes widened at the time reference. She had ten minutes to satisfy her end of the bargain. She looked toward the change room entrace, and could see the other players all coming out. Malfoy was still nowhere to be seen.

"Well, I better leave you to it, looks like Professor Snape is rounding you all up," she surmised.

Blaise nodded. "See you, Hermione," he turned to walk away.

"Blaise!" she called out. He looked back at her.

"Uhm, watch out for those bludgers," she said. He smiled at her, sending a salute in jest.

Eight minutes.

Hermione discreetly made her way to the Slytherin entrance. Professor Snape was talking to the team, which was crowded around him nearby. It was now, or never.

She carefully slipped inside.

Malfoy was seated, putting on his boots, his gloves next to him. Hermione inhaled at the sight before her, watching him tie his bootlaces. She had never stood this close to him in his quidditch gear.

"Granger," he stated, not looking up as he put on his remaining boot and started tying the laces. "I was beginning to think that you were simply going to hand in your badge," he said. She almost didn't hear him as she stared at his form. "Good thing I didn't assign the back-up seeker to play the game," he continued wearily, putting his foot down, and running his fingers through his hair as he looked up at her. His eyes pierced her, leaving her momentarily disorientated.

"It was a little hard to get into the head rooms when the knight decided to go frolicking about last night," she snapped. She had a momentary thought that it was his doing but his lack of composure said otherwise.

"So, minutes before I have to go out and actually play, you decide to hold up your end of the bargain? Great sabotage ploy, Granger, I didn't think you had it in you." He glared at her, yet his demeanour was somewhat deflated.

"We never agreed on anything more than that I had to see you before the match," she reasoned.

"Of course," he drawled, narrowing his eyes, "everything is subject to interpretation, Granger." He stood up, his full height overwhelming her senses.

"This is purely transactional, Malfoy," she replied hotly before leaning up and kissing his lips hard as she pushed him back down onto the bench for easier access. She was sick of Malfoy calling the shots, and could tell he was surprised by her sudden actions as he opened his mouth in surprise.

Hermione let her tongue slip into his warm cavern as she leant over him. Lost in the contact, she found herself straddling him, her hands on his leather padded shoulders holding her in place. She didn't care that he didn't respond, she let her tongue explore him, her lips locked over his, sucking gently. For her, it was the thrill of it, the sudden anti-Hermione antics bringing out a new found means of expression. She was angry at Malfoy, yet, she also felt something else for him, a much more profound sensation that was causing her to unleash her brazen desires.

Finally, she felt his tongue circle around hers, as he brought his hands up to cup her face, tilting it slightly for his benefit. The kiss became fierce, an erupting passion drawing them closer, his tongue slipping into her mouth and consuming her senses. She moaned against him, and could hear his short breaths as she involuntarily rolled her hips into his, causing him to inhale sharply. It was frenzied and quickly escalating, she could feel the unexplained magnetism tipping her over the edge to the point where she no longer cared how far they would go, or about their time constraints. All sense of morals that she harboured were extinguishing in mere seconds. She brought her hand down to his growing bulge, rubbing over it through his quidditch pants. He groaned into ther mouth, his teeth biting down on her lower lip. In retaliation, she stroked him with more pressure this time as they mouths battled.

He broke away suddenly, panting, his eyes dark, and enraged. "Get off me, Granger," he snarled, his throaty voice strained as he practically pushed her off of him onto the bench. She immediately stood up.

"Isn't this what you wanted, Malfoy?" she was practically yelling, ignorant of who might hear. He grabbed her arm, and stood up.

"Fucking perfect, Granger," he thundered, letting go of her just as abruptly.

"Think of it this way Malfoy, you haven't lost any of that aggression, you'll be just fine!" she retorted. He grabbed his robe that was hanging nearby, fastening it around his neck while glaring at her the whole time. Finally, he reached for his gloves, and stormed out, taking his broom off the rack on the way.

* * *

A/N: This is probably one of my favourite chapter endings. Hermione is not the only one acting like a girl...lol! Blaise is still too hot for me to get rid of. hehehe


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I am sincerely sorry for the delay!! Thanks for being patient, I have made it a decent chapter to make up for it. Well, I hope it's decent. I could roll out a few excuses, but I guess it doesn't really matter now. :P **

**Just to re-cap, Malfoy has just stormed out of the Slytherin change room, after Hermione manages, only just, to make contact with him before the game. And what fun contact it was! hehehe. And so it continues... Enjoy! **

_______________________________________________

A flustered Hermione sat alone, confused, overcome with anger and lust, on the benches in the Slytherin change room, wondering what the hell had come over Malfoy. Of all the possible reactions, _he_ thought that _she _was out to sabotage _him._ It was just incomprehensible.

She felt deflated, and highly strung, her hormones were going haywire. If Malfoy thought he was struggling, well, he'd definitely had left her feeling displeased.

The sabotage was on her.

The sound of cheering signalled that the game had started. Inhaling deeply to re-engage her thoughts, she stood up, straightening her clothes and walked out toward the Gryffindor section of the stands. Not once did she look up at the players.

"Hermione!" Lavender waved as she shouted to grab her attention. Hermione smiled in acknowledgement and made her way over.

"Hi Lavender," she called out over the cheering crowd. "Have I missed anything?"

"Slytherin scored, or should I say, _Blaise_ scored," she lowered her voice for Hermione's ears only. Hermione instantly looked up, spotting the dark haired wizard near the goal posts, and smiled slightly. She felt an elbow dig into her ribs.

"Ouch! What was that for?" she moaned, rubbing her side as she turned to Lavender, the culprit.

"Malfoy and Harry look like they're arguing about something," Lavender pointed to Hermione's far right. She searched the air and spotted Malfoy's trademark hair. Surely enough, Hermione could see Harry and Malfoy circling each other threateningly, their faces angry and heated, Malfoy's expression aggressive and snide, while Harry appeared to be reacting to something.

"What do you think is going on? Malfoy and Harry always ignore each other during matches, they're so bloody focused." Hermione could only guess as the crowd cheered around them in reaction to Gryffindor's score. She did not like the look on Malfoy's face one bit.

"Probably just egging each other on," she reasoned, but other people in the crowd were taking notice and pointing toward the two seekers. Yet, just as soon as it started, it was over as the two seekers averted their attention to the flutter of golden wings nearby and raced after it. Cheers erupted as the seekers battled for the ultimate deal breaker: victory.

Hermione, relieved that they were both still focused enough to give the game priority over their airborne exchange, grabbed onto Lavender's arm involuntarily, as the crowd watched the seekers carry out their chase. Hermione found herself in a battle of emotions. Her heart filled with excitement at Harry's dominance, yet the moment Malfoy swerved to take the lead, she felt a burst of pride shoot through her, to the point that her grip on Lavender caused her friend to yelp.

"Relax, Hermione, Harry is going to catch it," Lavender mistook her tension as fear that Slytherin would win. Hermione shook her head groaning inwardly, thankful that her true emotions were so far removed from ever being considered by a fellow Gryffindor. She felt instant reproach for her uninvited reactions, for momentarily wishing defeat on her own house. Even at such a great distance she was not inoculate to the phenomenon that had matured between herself and the Head boy.

The two seekers had disappeared from the naked eye of the spectators; Hermione averted her eyes to rest of the players in time to see Blaise score for his team. Once again, a wave of excitement passed over her, and even though it was only slight in comparison, she felt encumbered with guilt and closed her eyes, letting go of Lavender as she sat down to escape it. Lavender did not seem to notice as she screamed out and clapped her hands at the swift retaliation of Gryffindor.

Malfoy was right. She shouldn't have come to watch the game.

The stands were shaking beneath her as everyone jumped excitedly. Hermione looked up and caught sight of two figures growing in the distance. It was Harry and Malfoy, yet this time, they were not racing but idly making their way back to the field. Was it over?

She stood up holding her breath. She felt something akin to disappointment as she noticed Malfoy's shoulders slumped slightly. It was so subtle but as he neared, she could sense his defeat. His inscrutable expression said it all, his lips pursed as he landed away from the crowds. Her feelings were immediately quashed as Harry released the snitch from his hand. She clapped excitedly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Lavender was squealing next to her. They had won, marginally, given the high scores of the Slytherin team.

"Told you Harry would catch it," Lavender turned to Hermione, laughing, slight relief sneaking upon her face. Hermione nodded in agreement, returning a smile.

"Let's head down to the field," Hermione prompted. They made their way down with the rest of the mob, getting lost in the crowd.

"Harry!" she cried as she caught sight of him before he was swallowed by a sea of red and gold. She scanned around and caught sight of Ron, rushing over to hug him "Well done, Ron!"

"Thanks Hermione," he grinned, his elation apparent. He led them through the masses to Harry.

"Harry!" he grabbed his attention. "Well done, mate! Or, should I say, Captain."

"It was close, Malfoy nearly had it," he shook his head, catching Hermione's eye.

"Oh Harry, I'm so proud of you!" Hermione hugged him tightly, holding on a little longer to reaffirm her happiness for him. He stood back and smiled at her, but there was something in his eyes.

"Thanks," he simply said. Hermione stood back, trying to make sense of his short response. He must have seen the confusion in her eye and only gave her more reason to feel that whatever had transpired between Harry and Malfoy during the game, somehow involved her. He simply turned away without saying another word, reacting to the congratulations of others.

Hermione felt her stomach plummet to the pit of her insides. What on earth had happened up there? Even though she was standing in the middle of a raucous Gryffindor student body, She suddenly felt alone. They had dissolved around her as she was consumed by a sudden panic.

Had it finally caught up with her?

She had isolated herself and it was her own fault.

"Hermione!" someone called out. Blinking once, twice, she realised Ron was trying to get her attention. She made eye contact. "We're heading up to the Gryffindor tower, come on!" he urged, brandishing his arm to goad her along with the rest of the crowd. Hermione nodded. She turned her head toward the Slytherin change rooms and could see Blaise, and a few others chatting idly outside. He seemed completely unaffected by their loss. It made her smile as she walked back to the castle.

* * *

Hermione sat in the decorated common room, butterbeer in hand, beneath as bundle of streamers that had fallen loose and were resting on her shoulder. She had not said another word to Harry all afternoon; it was not the time for confrontations or explanations, but she thought it best to avoid him anyway. To wish, even momentarily, defeat on her best friend was traitorous. The guilt was overwhelming.

Ron came over and sat next to her, putting his arm around her and pulling down the streamers along with him, so that they fell on his head. She laughed, he grinned. He was drunk. "Hermione," he managed to say her name, although it was rather slurred. "You're the best," he leaned over, and kissed her bang smack on the lips. Hermione's eyes were wide open with shock, as Ron, pulled back, swaying slightly, grinning madly at her.

"Thanks Ron," she replied uncertainly, as he leaned back on the couch, pulling her back with him, and took another swig of his drink. She suddenly felt very aware of her surroundings, but did not want to make a big deal about it to remove herself from Ron's hold. He was her best friend after all.

"You played well today, Ron, see, a few nerves are nothing to worry about," she tried to make general chit chat to help her relax.

"Hermione, when are you ever wrong? I haven't seen you much lately, I forget how reliable you are. I miss you," he was all seriousness suddenly. Hermione nodded, her lips pressed together. Did he miss her because he could rely on her, or did he miss her for some other reason? Her former schoolgirl crush on him had dissipated a long time ago. Are least Ron still thought she was the same Hermione as always. Harry on the other hand, well, it was all rather dubious.

"You know I used to have such a crush on you," he announced suddenly. Whatever he was drinking was certainly helping with the verbal diarrhoea. She didn't know what to say.

"Me too," she heard herself respond, blushing slightly to be having this conversation. "What happened?" She took the last sip of her drink and set the bottle down on the couch beside her.

He seemed genuinely surprised, and shrugged reflectively. "I suppose, I wasn't really sure if you wanted to go there. I didn't want to ruin our friendship, make it complicated. Maybe I was just too scared to do anything about it," his voice lowering. He pulled her in close, "I'll always have a soft spot for you though, Hermione," bringing his other arm around her, hugging her tightly. She felt so comfortable in his arms, she couldn't even recall the last time he had ever hugged her like this, drunk or not.

"Thanks, Ron," she murmured, her lips muffled by his t-shirt as she nestled her head into his chest. It was nice to be hugged by her best friend, she needed it. "Even if you are drunk, I appreciate it," she smiled into his chest, hearing his breathing settle. He had passed out. But, not before making her feel better. Hermione unravelled herself from his hold, with a new found determination.

She slipped out of the common room quietly, which wasn't so difficult given the circumstances. Her high spirited housemates were going to be up all night. Hermione made her way back to her head digs; she needed to settle a few things.

It was all about timing, after all.

* * *

The common room was dark, save for the flickering fire setting a glow about the room.

"Come to gloat?" She heard the familiar, surly voice of the Head Boy. He was lying flat on his back on the couch, staring at the ceiling in fixation. He didn't look her way. She stopped, wondering whether to speak to him or not, or perhaps interrogate him about what he had said to Harry.

"About what exactly?" she tested.

"About what exactly," he parroted dully, his statement loaded. He went silent, his expression changing to one of agony. He looked unusually pale. Hermione frowned, not sure if it was the shadow being cast on him from the fire.

Malfoy looked ill.

Then again, it wasn't her problem.

She turned and walked to her room, shutting herself in, leaning against the door in slight mental disarray. For an instant, Hermione actually felt _concerned_ for him. She breathed deeply trying to dismiss it. Her eyes caught sight of her book bag on her desk and she recalled the text she had checked out of the library only yesterday.

Wow, yesterday. That would be before playing devil's advocate and contracting with the enemy, jumping the enemy, possibly ruining a friendship, and finding out another _could _have become something more. Amongst all the chaos, Hermione had forgotten all about _blue blood. _She rushed over and pulled the book out of its confines, reading over its title, _Bloodthirsty Concoctions: the calamities of the live potion._ Who would even need to refer to this at Hogwarts?

She sat on the floor, leaning against her bed, and opened the text to scan over the contents. She searched for elves, and for any mention of pureblood, knowing that searching for _blue blood_ would procure no result. She spotted mention of house elves and flipped to the page.

_House elves, the cornerstone in the indictment of Wizarding servitude, are bound to their master, serving pureblood families for generations. Known to possess a unique strain of magical abilities, it has been said that the ties of master and servant are strengthened through generations. This is particularly notable in the great houses of purebloods. _

_Bound by secrecy, little is known about the use of the blood of house elves within pureblood families, but the blood of a servant is often a counterpart of dark magic, binding spells, and lifelong curses. _

_Few free house elves exist to partake in healer research. The only known research conducted was that of Professor Horace Travis in 1876 who freed his own house elf in an act of retaliation against pureblood family traditions. He conducted studies which analysed the blood of all magical creature, and wizards. His results were never published, never having the opportunity, but extracts from his diaries, recovered in 1896, reveal some rather interesting accounts and results. _

_"It is as I expected, the ominous ink colour of house elf blood is a visual warning, for it is poisonous, unless neutralised _[_…_]._" _

Hermione eagerly read on, a feeling of dread escalating.

_"_[…]_ I cut myself with a shard of glass, and my blood contaminated the sample I was working on. I moved to throw it out, but thought the better of it. I set it aside to investigate later _[…] _Illness has kept me away from my laboratory for days. Upon my return I immediately attended to the accidental sample I had collected. To my utter surprise it had changed colour, a bright blue, like the colour of sapphire. I am not sure if it is simply due to the combination of house elf and wizard blood, or if it extends beyond the mixture of blood to a deeper link forged between a pureblood and his former servant. _[…] _I fed it to the rat, it was violently ill, although it did not die. Dosage seems to have an effect. _[…] _I took the plunge and digested a drop with my tea; it was my blood after all, albeit mixed. I was overcome with a mild wave of euphoria, a feeling of confidence and self-awareness dominating my disposition before I fall into a sense of dissatisfaction."_

_"I have taken to habitual consumption of the concoction. I cannot explain it. I feel rather restless, incomplete without it. Although the dissatisfaction lingers for greater periods, I no longer care for the consequences _[…] _I am poisoning myself_._" _

Hermione stopped reading.

The professor had stumbled across what would become the essential combination of _blue blood_. The final ingredient, ground ragweed, must have been added to draw out and heighten the favourable elements.

Hermione stood up and walked to her book bag. She pulled out the parchment with the ingredient list Blaise had given her, casting the spell to reveal it. She read down to the final ingredient of _l'etat d'esprit_. Mandrake puss: the neutraliser. Hermione dropped the parchment as she recalled Blaise's comment.

He had added the mandrake puss a day too late.

Something was wrong with Malfoy, she hadn't been imagining it.

Hermione rushed out the common room, to the occupied couch. Malfoy was lying half asleep. His appearance was unsettling; an expression of discomfort on his face, his breathing slightly laboured.

"Malfoy?" He stirred, groaning slightly. She kneeled, outstretching an arm to tap him on the shoulder. The contact made her stomach flip, but she ignored it.

"Malfoy, I need you to listen to me. Did you stop taking the potion? Nod once." She waited for him to respond, his head moving slightly in acquiescence. She sat back on her knees. This was not good. How could she have known that going cold turkey would draw out the negative effects? The amount he had consumed, together with Blaise's error, was evidence enough to support the probability that Malfoy had poisoned himself. How badly, she had no idea, but it was not sitting well with his abrupt termination of its consumption.

She was beginning to panic. "Malfoy?" she directed, "I need you to wake up." He groaned, mumbling something incoherent. Hermione pursed her lips, noticing the droplets of perspiration around his brow, his hair matted against his face. He was heating up, a red glow spreading over his bare skin. Pulling out her wand, Hermione cast a cooling charm over him, as he had once directed her to do.

"Malfoy," she commanded with more urgency.

"Granger," he mumbled groggily, his eyes still closed. "It hurts…like pins…everywhere." Hermione struggled to make sense of what he was saying, he wasn't moving. Her heart was beating rapidly, her blood coursing through her, reverberating in her eardrums.

"Please, Malfoy, you have to tell me where," she could hear the pleading tone in her voice, as she tentatively reached over and touch his bare forearm. He immediately shot up, grabbing her arm and jerking it away, crying out in agony. Hermione fell back, horrified by his reaction. He was rubbing his arm frantically.

He turned to catch her eye, his eyes were bloodshot, and his breaths short. He rubbed his face with his hands, as if to mentally compose himself and his senses.

"Fuck," he groaned out loud. "What the fuck is happening to me? What are _you_ doing here?" he threatened, his blood shot eyes, sharp and looming. Hermione stood up, cowering slightly.

"You were heating up, I placed a cooling charm on you, you were almost unconscious," she explained. His hard stare immediately fell as he looked around the room disorientated.

"I feel like shit," he grumbled.

"Can you move?" she felled compelled to ask.

"Barely," he replied bleakly.

"I have a pepper up potion in my room, do you want it?" she found herself asking. He considered her offer, perplexity written on his face, before nodding. Who knew why she was helping him. She walked back to her room, into her bathroom and retrieved it.

* * *

"Here," she handed it to him, careful that their skin did not touch. She didn't want any repeat of his previous reaction.

He drank it, she watched.

They were silent.

"You've being poisoning yourself," she suddenly blurted. He turned to her sharply, unperturbed by her statement.

"I figured as much. I am attracted to _you_, after all." Hermione felt her blood boil, and her eyes narrow. Even in his state, he still managed to be an obnoxious, intolerable git. Oh, how she wanted to shout at the top of her lungs.

That Slytherin sitting before her actually had the audacity to laugh. It was a strenuous, exhausted laugh, but he still managed to humiliate her, and make her feel about two inches tall.

"What is your problem!" she shouted. He shook his head, smiling, setting the bottle beside him and slowly lifting his body around, placing his feet on the carpet and standing up carefully. "You were teetering on the precipice of death, and you want to make a joke of it!" she continued, her fists clenched.

"I was only doing what we agreed to. I said I would stop taking the potion and I did. I'll deal with the consequences, Granger," he replied tersely, his voice drained as he moved toward the direction of his bedroom.

"Blaise added the mandrake puss a day too late. That was the batch we both took. You have been drinking a potion that was not properly neutralised for a prolonged period of time. I think you should be a _little_ more concerned for your well being," she retorted.

He froze, his back towards her, visibly stiffening as he took great effort to run a hand through his hair, a habit she now associated with his moments of deep thought. "I'll deal with Blaise," he replied ominously. Hermione didn't like the sound of his words in the slightest.

She followed him as he entered his bedroom. "Granger, it's not a good idea for you to be in here," he stated frankly as he head into his bathroom over to the vanity basin, running the tap and washing his face. She stood at the doorway of his bathroom watching him, deliberating her choice of words.

It dawned on her, the fact that she had come to his rescue, so to speak, was not boding well with the Head boy. In a way, they were similar, for she hadn't sought any assistance with her problems until she was desperately crying in Lavender and Pavarti's room. He straightened up, catching her eye in the mirror, his expression slightly bewildered.

"Can't you take a hint, Granger? I don't want to be around anyone at the moment, especially a Gryffindor!" he spat, reaching for the towel nearby and drying his face.

"Don't be such a proud git Malfoy, you should be thankful I came into the common room when I did, that I had happened to discover something in time to realise you weren't well. We agreed I would help you, anyway. So deal with it!" she defended.

He walked up to her, staring at her for a moment, before brushing past her back into his room. She followed, recalling the last time she was in there. He walked to his wardrobe and took off his jumper, and tie, and began to unbutton his shirt. His ignorance of her presence was grating on her nerves.

"Malfoy!" she snapped.

"Granger, get out. Playing Healer is over, no need to stay for observation," he mocked.

She harrumphed irately. "This is not fun and games, Malfoy, when is it going to sink in that you have been consuming _poison_."

"I am well aware of it, Granger!" he suddenly bellowed. She shut her mouth, realising he was trying to dismiss it for his own sake.

He walked over and sat on his bed, his shirt half buttoned revealing his bare chest. She inhaled, looking away. This was not the time for _that. _

"Well, I'm waiting to hear it, Granger, what do you suppose I do?" he looked up at her snidely. She bit her lip, trying to work out how best to have him cooperate.

"We need to find an antidote. Just because you've stopped drinking it, doesn't mean that it hasn't had a permanent effect. I need to write down every reaction, change, feeling you have experienced since taking it." She nodded for self-assurance.

Malfoy brandished his arms in defeat. She turned to go to her room to retrieve parchment and a quill. "_Now_ you're leaving?" he thundered.

"I'm going to get parchment, Malfoy." He looked at her like she was completely clueless.

"I _have_ parchment, Granger," he replied, slowly, articulating his words as he indicated to his desk with a nod of his head.

"Oh, right." He smirked. She stood there, waiting for him to get it.

"Anytime, Granger, we have all night," he scoffed.

"Oh, forgive my ignorance, a Malfoy allowing a person of my blood to touch his things, how could I _not_ have known," her sarcasm setting of a glint of amusement in his eye as he shrugged nonchalantly. She walked over to his desk.

"I give you permission to sit, Granger," he directed, the amusement still apparent. She was glad someone was finding this funny.

"How kind of you," she tilted her head in spurious gratitude. Hermione sat at his desk, turning her chair to the side so that she could see him. It was a strange feeling being in his room with _permission_. She inwardly laughed, taking a piece of parchment from the nearby pile and picking up a quill.

She shifted slightly in her chair. "Uhm, well, I suppose we should start at the most recent reaction you've suffered," she started. She signalled his silence as acquiescence. "Right, what was the last thing that happened before you took the pepper up potion?"

He shook his head, "You cast a cooling charm on me?" he guessed dismissively. The prat was not co-operating. She drew a line down the middle of the page, writing _'physiological' _on one side and _'psychological'_ on the other. Under the first she wrote, '_extreme body heat (subsided with cooling charm, no. of repetitions: one?)' _

"How many times have you used a cooling charm on yourself?" she asked, not looking up from the parchment.

"Twice."

She corrected the parchment before looking up. "When was the first experience?"

His expression thoughtful, he seemed to hesitate to respond. She raised her brow to urge him to speak. He looked away before answering, "After you left me in the classroom, _that_ day." Hermione felt her face redden. Of course it had to be then. He averted his eyes to her once again, catching her blush. The air was filled with a sudden awkward tension.

"Ok," was all she could manage, for, his response triggered her memory of his reaction earlier when she had touched him and he had woken up.

"Why did you scream in pain when I touched your arm?" she blurted. He seemed to have no recollection of it occurring as he frowned at her question.

"When you woke up, it was because you had reacted to my touch, you mentioned you were in pain, like pins…" she tried to assist his memory. He involuntary rubbed his arm where she had touched him.

"It felt like all my nerves were active all at once," he replied suddenly. She pursed her lips, wondering if it was simply a side-effect from his overheated body. She wrote _'hypersensitivity' _on the parchment.

"Do you think it's related to the fact that I have it in my system?" she questioned. He ran his fingers through his fine tresses in thought, shrugging and exhaling loudly.

"I think the fact that you aren't the owner of the blood in the potion changes things for you, and maybe me," he said pensively. Hermione had not thought of that variable, the fact that her blood was not one of the ingredients in the potion, or the fact that she was not a pureblood. Blaise had taken it, but not the same improperly brewed batch, and he _was_ a pureblood. There were no means for comparison. It was likely that a muggleborn had never drunk _l'etat d'esprit._ Hermione expression turned sombre, she was exhausted by the possibilities.

"Should we check whether you might still react that way if I touch you?" she felt stupid asking but it was for the purpose of research and deduction. He looked at her strangely, almost as if he were thinking the same thing.

"I suppose we should," he replied. They both hesitated to move, Hermione was unsure of what to do next. Suddenly feeling timid, consumed with worry about how he might react and how she would handle it in light of their previous encounters. If only her brain would just stop thinking!

Since she had recommended it, she decided to make the first move, standing up and walking over to him. She stood in front of him, uncertain. Should she sit? Or, just get it over with and touch his arm? Malfoy was eyeing her with vague curiosity, she decided to stand, and make it quick. She would reach out, touch him with a finger and pull back. The whole scenario was ludicrous.

Tentatively, she outstretched her arm, pointed her finger and leant over to touch him. She closed her eyes, as if in anticipation of his cry of agony and immediate retraction, but when none availed she opened them. His expression was unreadable as he stared up at her. She was suddenly greeted with a heightened sense of touch and felt herself begin to caress his forearm, her fingers brushing over his smooth, muscular skin.

It was almost hypnotic.

He moved his arm away, taking hold of hers, securely gripping her wrist.

"What are you doing?" she asked carefully.

"I'm upholding your end of the bargain," he growled before he pulled her down onto the bed so that she was next to him, leant over her so that she fell onto her back, and kissed her.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know! The wait won't be long, I promise! Lmk what you think might happen? hehehe


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Finally!!! I am in self reproach for my delay. This chapter has been plaguing me since my last post, but here it is. **

**Please note that the rating is defintely stepping up to the plate in this chappie. That was my dilemma...do I, don't I, but I did...finally. :p**

_Moments ago: _

_"What are you doing?" she asked carefully._

_"I'm upholding your end of the bargain," he growled before he pulled her down onto the bed so that she was next to him, leant over her so that she fell onto her back, and kissed her._

____________________________________________

Hermione's lips burned at the contact, her senses overwhelmed by the Head Boy's attention to her mouth, his lips moulded against hers with an unfounded urgency. She couldn't help but respond to his unquestionably absolute attention as his hand released its grip from her arm, that he had held down against the bed, and traced along her waist up over her material clad breasts where they remained. Her instinctive moan egged him further, as his tongue laced around hers possessively while he moved over her, his knee between her legs, slightly bent to support his weight.

Hermione was startled by the hardness of his body against hers, her hands immediately coming up to grip his shoulders as she squirmed slightly under him, trying to adjust to the feel of the new experience. After all, it was the first time she found herself laying flat on a bed with a guy over her, in the bedroom of one unpredictable Slytherin at that.

He groaned into her mouth, breaking away and eyeing her steadily, his breath short. She could taste the sweetness of the pepper up potion he had taken on her lips. She licked them, looking back at his darkened eyes nervously. What on earth was he thinking? Why did she even care?

"You smell nice," he murmured before moving off her, lying flat on his back next to her. She lay silent, not daring to move, her chest heaving slightly from their heated session. The state of her hair could only be imagined. She could still feel the lingering presence of him on her.

Minutes past.

Gathering the courage, she turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of Malfoy's profile in her periphery. His trademark hair was dishevelled, his eyes closed, his nose perfectly straight his lips slightly parted and swollen. She inhaled at the sight.

"Uhm, Malfoy?" she spoke out timidly. She turned her head fully to face him, awaiting a response.

The prat had fallen asleep.

Sighing, Hermione turned on her side. He knew how to keep her on edge and yet, she felt strangely comfortable in his presence. She closed her eyes, telling herself that it would be for a moment before she went back to her room.

She fell asleep almost immediately, lying next to the insufferable Malfoy.

* * *

It was the sudden change in room temperature that caused Hermione stir. She could sense a light in the distance, shifting position to block it out. Gradually, a realisation that she wasn't in her bedroom came to fruition. She was fully clothed, and had been sleeping on top of the covers of the bed, as comfortable as they were.

Hermione opened her eyes, squinting in the direction of the light source creeping through the door crack. She could make out the green and silver house paraphernalia on the wall. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes, and ran her hand over her now rather crazy mane as she looked around her. How had she ended up in the middle of the bed she had no idea.

The door suddenly opened, and there was no denying the ethereal appeal of one Head boy as the light source behind him was almost blinding. It didn't help that he was clad in only a towel. He caught her gaze, freezing momentarily before stepping into the bedroom.

"I thought you were asleep," was all he said, in a tone he rarely exhibited in her company. It was, well, neutral and completely civil. Hermione felt her cheeks heat up to a scorching level. She had never been more thankful that she was surrounded by darkness on her end as she debated her response. Of course, she would never admit that she had come to notice his absence and woken up.

"I _was_, but I think I should go back to my room," she replied, moving to the edge of the bed. He nodded, and walked to his closet, opening the doors. How he could see what he was looking for, she had no idea. Instead, she sat staring at his back, the light catching the movement of his shoulders. Despite its ordinariness, seeing Malfoy so bare, fishing around for something to wear, was startlingly intimate.

He pulled back, holding a t-shirt and what looked like a pair of boxers.

Hermione blushed yet again, as it dawned on her that he was actually naked save for the towel. "I thought you were leaving," he stirred; she could hear it in his tone and just knew that he was smirking.

"I am," she insisted, standing up but not moving to exit. She suddenly wanted to stay in his room, even though it wasn't something she should have allowed herself to feel, she wished she had been more bold in her contractual requests, as he had. He was the only one who could really demand her company, not that it wasn't strange enough. "Right, well..." she turned and walked to the door.

"Granger, don't rush yourself, if I recall correctly, last time you couldn't get out quicker."

"Last time I didn't have my wand," she teased.

His chuckle broke the silence. "Touché," he quipped.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, realising she had just flirted with _Malfoy_. Well, she had done much worse, but this was voluntary_ without_ the overpowering physiological reaction of a potion.

Speaking of which, she was feeling unusually at ease, almost like a weight had been lifted, or a subconscious burden appeased. More worriedly, she had never spent this much time with Malfoy. Not before, not after the now historical potion exchange, not ever.

Period.

Hermione frowned, wondering if Malfoy was onto something. Contact certainly had helped.

"You can stay, Granger. You've already messed up my bed sheets." He walked into the bathroom again, shutting the door behind him. Of course, he had to qualify his niceties with a disparaging statement.

Hermione fidgeted, knowing deep down that a part of her wanted to stay, yet her rational, Gryffindor self knew that if she did, it would go against every thread of common sense and tenet she possessed and had spent the last six years following without challenge.

The door opened again, Malfoy walked out in his t-shit and boxers, his hair dry, his demeanour unchanged. It was as if he had known she was still there. He looked at her as though she was an expected room fixture before walking over to his bed, pulling the covers back and crawling under without further comment.

It was entirely in her hands.

Hermione let out a breath. She had already slept in his bed, what difference would it make now? She slipped off her shoes, took off the bulk of her clothes, leaving her in a t-shirt and her underpants. He had seen her in much less, and her jeans weren't exactly sleeping attire.

She walked over to the other side of the bed, pulled the covers back enough to slip under, and secured them tightly around her. Her drowsiness returned as her head hit the softness of the pillow. She turned on her side, her back facing his.

It was a night for many firsts.

That was the last thought Hermione had before drifting into sleep.

* * *

Morning light trickled through the windows that had been shielded by curtains. Hermione could feel a tickling sensation on her neck. She blindly lifted a hand trying to shrug it off, only to hit Malfoy in the face. He had been breathing onto her neck.

His muffled dissatisfaction woke her up as she heard him groan in pain. He moved away, turning and bringing his hand up to soothe his nose.

"Why'd you do that for?" he grumbled sleepily. She turned her head to see Malfoy lying on his back, his face scrunched up in pain.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her voice drowsy. "Thought there was something on me," she offered lamely, only to realise afterward how that sounded.

"Yeah? Well, this is _my_ bed Granger," he retorted, his voice muffled behind his hands. As if she had hit him that hard?

"Malfoy, I hardly touched you, don't be so vain, your perfect face will live to see another day of admiration," she dismissed, sitting up, grabbing her hair and shifting it to one side.

He was silent next to her, still lying flat.

"You think my face is perfect?" he asked suddenly with interest, his hands coming away from his face.

She groaned out loud, rolling her eyes.

"I was being sarcastic," she corrected, her tone reluctant. It was too early for this.

"A half truth then?" She turned to see him smirking up at her. She could only glare in response.

"Hardly, but it's obvious that the only way to shut a Malfoy up is with a compliment. A miracle cure, it seems."

"Funny, Granger. Too bad I can't return the favour. You're looking mighty frightening with that hair of yours," he observed.

"Thanks for stating the obvious," she replied with a bored tone. She really needed to get out, but she was in her underwear, and her jeans were out of reach.

"Malfoy, get up and pass me my jeans," she snapped turning to look at him. The look on his face was priceless.

"I don't take orders from the likes of you! Get them yourself!" he bit back, resting his hands behind his head, an attempt to re-affirm his superiority.

"So you take orders from someone then? Parkinson? Your father?" She couldn't help herself. His eyes narrowed. She had gone a little too far with that one.

"Play time is over, Granger. Get out."

"You asked for it Malfoy. I get it, I'm not a pureblood. But you know what? I wouldn't want to be."

She pulled the covers to one side with enough force so that they fell onto Malfoy so he wouldn't see her stand up in her minimal clothing as she quickly walked over to her stuff, grabbed it, and walked out, not bothering to shut his door.

It was like the walk of shame, as she made her way across the common room half dressed, carrying her remaining clothing in her arms, over to her door.

"Granger," she heard him call from his doorway but ignored him as she reached her end of the room.

"Granger!" he thundered.

"What?" she yelled back, as she walked into her room, throwing the pile onto the floor. She needed a shower.

"Usually, when someone acknowledges another who's seeking their attention, they stop and look at that person." She turned to see Malfoy standing in her doorway.

"Yeah, well, there are exceptions to every rule," she snapped. The one thing she wanted to avoid was Malfoy seeing her in her knickers and t-shirt. That objective had gone out the window as she stood there, letting him look back at her in a most vulnerable state. "What do you want Malfoy?"

"You have a bad habit of walking out on people before they can explain themselves. You're blinded by your own presumptions and prejudices, so don't go preaching to me without letting me defend myself."

Hermione sighed loudly. "Go ahead Malfoy, tell me your troubles," she mocked.

"Fuck, Granger, you are insufferable!" he bellowed, his face angry.

"I am just a little preoccupied with other more pressing matters," she retorted.

"What? If I recall correctly, there was your striptease incident, _and_ the fact that I fingered you in a classroom amongst other things. So, your sudden wish to be discreet about your state of dress is a joke."

Hermione could feel her face redden to the roots of her hair and her stomach flip as she stared back in outrage at the smirking, dirty talking, Head Boy.

"Now that we've got that sorted, I wasn't making a reference to your blood status, Granger," he stated frankly, in total disregard of his previous comment and its affect on her.

She gulped. "What does it matter? It's not like that rules out the other six years of your snide comments," she replied tersely, still trying to calm her heart rate.

"It matters," he started walking towards her, "...because," his towering form closing in on her, "...things are different now." At that, his hands came up to cup her face as he brought his lips down on hers, letting them linger softly, as if to test her response, before bringing them down hard. Hermione let herself react, that familiar magnetism building again at the contact, marking her defeat. Her hands came around his neck, as she reached up to accommodate their height difference.

The point where they went from standing to him lying over her on _her_ bed was completely blurred as his hand made its way under her t-shirt, over her bare stomach, up to her bare breasts. She moaned against him, her body reacting to his exploring hands. She let her own hands roam over his body as she brought them to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up, exposing his athletic chest. He pulled back letting her sit up slightly to lift his t-shirt over his head. He did the same to her, smirking knowingly as she exposed her skin to him.

"If you want this to continue, you better stop that," she warned.

"You're easily swayed, Granger, it just takes a bit of practice to break you," and with that he pushed her back on to the bed and let his mouth roam over her bare skin as he kissed his way down to her stomach, to the waistband of her boy short knickers. Hermione's senses were out of control as she reacted to his every touch. He tugged at the waistband, sliding them down slightly. She stopped him.

"Malfoy, I've not done this before," she managed to say, albeit timidly.

A moment of silence passed between them.

"Do you want to?" he replied, paying attention to her lower abdomen.

Well, that all depended on which Hermione he was asking? She was riddled with conflicting variations of herself. But, her unequivocally dominating self whispered, "Yeah." He didn't hear her, but looked up to see her nod back at him. His eyes blackened in response as he came over her once more to kiss her.

She could feel his hardness against her hip. It was slightly startling, knowing that he was responding to her. Her insides squirmed as she ran her hands up his arms, admiring the contours of his physique. His kisses were purposeful, full of verve and urgency. Her tongue circled with his, the contact of skin against skin making the experience undeniably more intense. Malfoy moved down to her neck, nipping and sucking in that spot that had become familiar to them in their countless battles of provocation.

This time she marvelled at the contact, letting her mental hindrances collapse into oblivion as her body reacted in the way only he had caused once before.

Too pre-occupied with what Malfoy was doing, she had not even noticed that he was now completely naked, leaving her knickers as the only cloth between them. It was suddenly felonious to be wearing them in the heat of the circumstances, especially since they evidenced her physical response.

With newfound confidence, Hermione brought her hand down towards Malfoy's arousal. She brushed over him, and he groaned against her skin as he concentrated on her own aroused peaks. He brought his hand down and pushed her away before pulling her final article of clothing down. She shifted to aid in the removal.

"Don't move," he let out, strain apparent in his voice. Hermione stilled, naive to the effect of her movement under him. He re-adjusted himself, pushing her legs wider with his knee as he brought his hand down, and slipped his finger into her folds. She whimpered at the contact, excitement building and nervousness washing over her at once.

"What did I tell you last time?" his asked, his voice husky and deep against her hear.

"To relax," she whispered. She breathed out to signal her acquiescence as she felt him slowly drive his fingers into her, drawing them out at the same pace as if to prepare her. She exhaled slowly, trying to relax further as he worked on her. She could feel herself let go of any hesitation, as that familiar pressure began to build. He pulled out, rubbing over her most sensitive spot. She couldn't help but moan. She just wanted him to keep going. She shut her eyes at the loss of contact as she felt him shift.

His arousal was now against her inner thigh.

"Bend your knees slightly." She obliged automatically as he rested between her legs, and she could feel the tip of him against her opening. He brought his mouth to hers, she willing granted him access, focusing on his kiss and the movements of his tongue against hers as he slowly moved into her.

It was like nothing she had ever felt. She whimpered into his mouth, unable to focus on the kiss as a pain washed over her and she held onto his shoulders with a sudden vice like grip. There was nothing sensual about it as she clenched up in reaction. Malfoy groaned against her, "Granger, please relax, you're not making it easy for me," he let out but remained still for her to adjust to the feel of him inside her.

Gradually he began to move again, pushing into her fully, hitting her in places she never thought could be touched. "You okay?" he asked lifting his head to look at her. She opened her eyes and nodded. He smiled slightly, rubbing her arm gently. His caring demeanour was enough to ease her hesitation and she felt him slowly withdraw before pushing back in just as slowly. Concentrating on the rhythm he was setting, she could feel herself beginning to react to the sensations he was causing, that pressure beginning to build within her once more as her senses responded to his thrusts. She slowly began to move with him, heightening the feel of him within her as he began to pick up the pace, kissing her every now and then on her neck, her lips, as he brought hands up over her breasts, eliciting moans from her as the paramount feeling was heightened by his other actions.

She was now moving with him, matching his thrusts as the friction of their bodies made their hearts race and breaths short. His hair fell over her face as he pulled back from his kisses and they concentrated on their movements. Her mind became hazy as she could only focus on the pull building within her, a need to set it loose taking over. Her desire was unparalleled as it culminated and consumed her senses. She was so close, she could feel her body begin to shake, her insides clawing for release. She heard him groan as he pushed into her, and brought his hand down to tease her sensory nub once more. The effect was a whirlwind of earth shattering collapse, as she moaned her release and felt her muscles clench around him, this time involuntarily.

Her reaction was shortly followed by his pulsing release, as his visceral grunt filled the room and his breaths became laboured as he continued to blindly move within her, all rhythm lost, surrending to his selfish needs before he finally eased out and fell onto his back next to her.

Hermione was at a loss for words. The shift from pain to pleasure was so extreme, she was almost fearful of the experience, as she aimed her efforts at calming her racing heart.

Once again, she found herself lying still next to the Head Boy, both naked and sated from their most intimate exchange. She brought her hand down to her now sensitive area. She could feel the air cooling the moisture but she could also sense the presence of something else.

Blood.

It only reaffirmed what had transpired. She stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering how she would feel about it all when full realisation came to fruition.

She could feel his eyes on her and turned her head slightly. His stare was so intense she could not keep her gaze. She looked away, turning on her side away from him.

"I should go," he mumbled.

A moment passed without movement or further comment.

"You can stay. You've already messed up my bed sheets."

* * *

A/N: OK I really need to know your thoughts on this, did I take the right/expected course of action? I wasn't sure if they should have gone this far, but it was inevitable, I think. I was just scared to finally make them have that connection.

Oh, and the aftermath, how will it be dealt with and what are the repurcussions? We shall see... hmmmm :p


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Well, I just have to say, that I am so overwhelmed by the reviews I received on the last chapter, it made my week. Thankyou for all your comments, its nice to get some constructive thought provoking responses. I was also suprised by the number of people who now have this story on their favourites/alerts. Would love to hear your thoughts on what's keeping you interested! :p**

**A more contemplative chapter ahead, with a few admissions to rock the boat, and perhaps help Hermione sought stuff out. **

____________________________________________________________

Hermione awoke as a harrowing discomfort registered. Her body ached, a dull throb coursing through her lower body. She found herself on her back, her body concealed by her bed covers which had been thrown over her from the opposite end of the bed, so that she was cocooned into them.

She was alone in her room.

Hermione sat up, rubbing her face; she could smell the scent of Malfoy on her skin. A natural reaction proceeded. The series of events that had unfolded in her room hours earlier came flooding into the frontline of her memory.

Her retina burned with images that made her blush.

She had...she couldn't even say it to herself.

Malfoy had instigated it.

She had allowed it.

Lifting the covers and glancing at her bare self confirmed it.

'Oh', her lips parted as a veritable awareness overcame her.

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her bedroom door, which was now closed. He never should have come in here.

Something on her bedside table caught her eye. It was a small glass vial of purple liquid with a note under it. She lifted it up, scrutinizing it before tentatively reaching for the note. The piece of parchment was folded over. She opened it:

_If you're not on anything, take this. _

_No guessing what it is. _

_DM_

Her eyes moved from the note to the vial. She stared at it momentarily.

"Shit," she mumbled out loud. Could she have been any more reckless?

She quickly removed the stopper and sculled it. The taste made her grimace and cough as it tickled her throat.

"Hermione, how could you be so stupid?!" she shook her head in self reproach.

How on earth had she let herself go that far? And, with Malfoy? The whole ordeal was cringe worthy. How could she walk the corridors with that secret weighing on her conscience?

Hermione stood up, shifting slightly in discomfort as she made her way to the bathroom. A bath was in order, one with plenty of scented bath products to rid her skin of any evidence.

As the bathtub filled, she sat on the edge, staring blankly at the running water as it gushed out. The outpour of liquid mimicked the running tears that had graced her face involuntarily. The more she thought about it, the more fathomable it became.

She was not upset that she had lost her virginity to Malfoy; it was the fact that she would have to go on pretending like nothing of the sort had happened between them. It wasn't that she expected things to change; it was more that she would have to lie about things being the same (well as far as she could claim they were).

Hermione slid into the bathtub, relishing in the almost too hot water as it attacked her skin. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Malfoy looking at her, his face inches from hers. The silver speckles of light amongst the darkened depths of his eyes haunting her.

She wasn't naive to think that his pleasure was attributable to any true feelings. It was entirely the potion's doing, and she knew he hated every minute of his reaction to her. After all, he had blatantly told her that he was going insane because of it. This..._thing_ between them...only served to appease the effects.

Should she feel used?

Well, it wasn't as though she didn't want it. He wasn't the only one suffering from this...compulsion.

"Infernal prat!" she muttered.

Albeit, a somewhat considerable one. Then again, the last thing they both needed was a by product of their stupidity. His father had probably drummed it into him to ensure the blood line wasn't tainted.

She snorted, imagining Malfoy being on the receiving end of a 'birds and the bees' lecture from Malfoy Senior.

Her stomach flipped and her cheeks scorched with heat as the natural progression of her thought process led her back the event.

She groaned out loud.

Was she ever going to get over her embarrassment?

There was no way she could keep up the charade around Harry. He already knew something, of which she was yet to determine.

Realising that the longer she bathed was not analogous to a greater prospect of getting over the ordeal; Hermione lifted the plug to drain the tub, sighing at her childish rationalisation. She stood up, and reached for a towel and went to her room to change.

She was Hermione Granger: valiant and smart.

That meant she could deal with it. She had to.

* * *

The common room was empty, the only movement being the flames ricocheting against one another in the confines of the open fireplace. Hermione made her way over to a bean bag, and sunk herself into comfort, pulling out her transfiguration homework, feeling suddenly relaxed as if the natural order of things had realigned. If she was going to proceed as usual, she may as well make a start on her homework. She pulled out her wand and began practicing her spells, with perhaps more rigour than what was customary.

The dying embers heralded a hunger which overcame Hermione so suddenly, she was feeling rather faint. Of course, she hadn't eaten since dinner yesterday. Placing her books to the side she figured she would need to make a trip to the kitchens for a snack. She was not going to last until dinner.

She stepped out of the portrait entrance, into the hallway. It was almost conciliatory as her fear of a change in her character did not permeate. In fact, she didn't feel any different than she had when walking the hallways only a day earlier. With a new found confidence, she decided to stop by the Gryffindor tower first.

Harry and Ginny were seated together chatting idly and stealing kisses. It was almost an invasion of privacy when Hermione spotted them in the corner. She turned her head in search of someone else.

"Hey, Hermione," she tilted her head in the direction of the the male voice. It was Dean. She frowned at his civil greeting. He ushered for her to join Seamus and him.

She unwilling walked over and sat down opposite them.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Seamus and I were just discussing yesterday's victory, which got me thinking."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in amusement. "About what exactly?"

"Well, as you know, it is common for Gryffindors to wish their team luck before the game. But it struck me as rather odd to see you talking to Zabini, a member of the opposing team, before the game. Were you wishing him good luck instead, Hermione? We were just wondering if you're happy that Gryffindor even won." Seamus snickered.

Hermione could not believe she had fallen for this, or that she had given Dean the benefit of the doubt. Clearly the lowly idiot was still overcome by insecurity from his little scare.

Hermione glared at Seamus, who immediately shut up and looked apologetic. She was silent for a moment, wondering how best to shut down the Gryffindor. She stared at him with a calculated cool reticence, timing her response. He wanted a reaction, she would give him one.

"Well, I promised to keep it secret, but I guess the cat's out of the bag. You guessed right, I was wishing Blaise good luck. It's only natural that I do if he's my boyfriend."

Hermione could see him staggering to respond, his mouth agape, Seamus's eyebrows disappearing into his hair line. She remained seated, soaking in their reactions with obvious mirth.

"I knew you were consorting with the enemy," Dean blurted righteously.

"Congratulations Dean, you're not as dense as I thought," Hermione retorted.

"You've got to be kidding, Hermione," Seamus interjected, his surprise wearing away. Hermione smiled knowingly. At least Seamus had his wits about him.

"Of course she's not; you should see them in potions." Dean barked.

His insularity was grating on her nerves. She stood up, staring him down. "Dean, there is no reason for you to be so interested in my personal affairs. Get over it."

"I am merely pointing out the fact that you've taken your inter house unity ideas too far. Everyone knows that Slytherins and Gryffindors don't mix. I'm sure Harry agrees," he defended hotly.

"I agree with what?" Harry was standing behind Hermione. She turned, slightly shocked by his presence.

"Hermione's just confessed that she's dating Blaise." Dean offered.

"She was kidding Dean, you idiot," Seamus corrected, shaking his head.

"Whatever," Dean stood up. "It doesn't change the fact that Hermione was on the Slytherin end of the pitch before the game."

"That's enough Dean," Harry said flatly.

Hermione looked at him, but was not relieved with what she saw. He was eyeing her carefully, almost as if he were putting two and two together. Dean looked mighty pleased with himself at that moment.

"Is that why you were eager for us to get down the pitch?" Harry asked. Hermione was silent.

"Harry, I can explain," she offered lamely.

Wrong answer.

"What's there to explain? She was looking rather cosy with Zabini," Dean interjected. Seamus nudged him one in the shoulder.

"I really don't need your thoughts on this, Dean," Harry turned to him. "Can you guys leave us alone."

"Sure, Harry. C'mon you goose, you've already stirred the pot," Seamus pushed Dean who reluctantly moved away.

Hermione sat down on the couch, knowing she couldn't escape this confrontation, no matter how hungry she felt. Harry sat opposite her, leaning back.

"Hermione, I haven't pried into whatever's been going on with you, but you've been acting really distant, and I've been hearing all sorts of things which are really out of character for you."

"Harry, it's not like I've had much of a choice. I realised I've isolated you, and Ron, but I didn't know how else to deal with everything," Hermione implored, trying to make Harry understand.

"So, should I believe what I've been hearing?" he studied her pensively.

"What did Malfoy say to you?" She did not need to second guess what he was referring to.

"How do you know I heard it from Malfoy?" he asked, his demeanour guarded.

"C'mon Harry, you totally ignored me after the game yesterday, and everyone saw you and Malfoy having a heated discussion about something. I think it's safe to assume..." she shrugged.

"Hermione, ever the smart Gryffindor," Harry smiled, shaking his head, somewhat downtrodden. "Malfoy made some rather hyperbolic statements."

"Harry whatever it is, I can handle it," she assured.

"You're not going to like it, but he said, that you, and I quote, "want to get in his pants, or any Slytherin, at that." He looked slightly amused by it.

Hermione could only respond in one way.

She laughed.

It was laced with nervousness, incredulity that Malfoy was talking about her in the middle of a Quidditch match, and embarrassement that Harry had to think about her in that light.

Harry looked baffled.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she breathed, shaking her head, focusing her attention on her hands.

"Did he say anything else?"

Harry fidgeted, avoiding her gaze. "I'd rather not repeat it, but I got rather angry. He was being quite...well...he was being a typical guy. He pretty much said you and him had, you know, been meeting up."

She figured as much.

"The only thing that doesn't add up, is Dean saying that you were talking to Zabini?"

Hermione nodded. "We're kind of, well, on speaking terms. He is my potions partner Harry."

"You sure there's nothing else going on with you two?"

Hermione was silent.

"Hermione, I think I deserve to know. Especially since it's a bunch of Slytherins we're talking about."

"Harry, I never meant to get this involved with any Slytherins...it happened after an incident." How much was she going to admit?

Harry was considerate enough to not interrupt and remained silent.

Hermione looked around to make sure that no one was in earshot. "By accident, I found out that a few Slytherins were taking this potion, which they had brewed themselves, and happens to be on the illegal register. I found this out, after Malfoy provoked me, and in an act of stupidity, I submitted to his dare to drink some of it," Hermione almost whispered.

"So you're blaming it all on the potion? It must cause one hell of a reaction." His sarcasm did not escape her but she chose to ignore it.

"Well, I soon learnt that this potion was more trouble than I anticipated, and that it had considerable side effects, which I have been suffering. Blaise asked for my assistance on trying to find an antidote, that's kind of how we started talking."

"So you and Blaise?" Harry prompted.

"Not quite," Hermione sighed. Images of Malfoy overthrew her train of thought.

"What does that mean? You and...Malfoy?" His look of disdain was enough to warn her to tread carefully.

Hermione remained silent.

"Only because of the potion, Harry, we still dislike each other, immensely. I can't explain it, or excuse it, but things have happened between Malfoy and me." She paused to take in his reaction.

"Hermione, this sounds like a load of rubbish. It's not like you've take a love potion, for crying out loud," Harry was becoming agitated, unwilling to accept her explanation.

"Well that's just it Harry, everyone whose taken it is somehow connected. But, it's been much worse for Malfoy, he _needs_ my help."

"So snogging Malfoy is _helping _Malfoy?" Harry spat. She was not going to correct him.

"Damn it Harry, just understand that this is not easy for me. It's not like I wanted all this. Blaise asked for my help, I ignored it for a while, but now it's become a real problem. The batch I took was incorrectly brewed; I almost fainted from my body overheating." She was appealing to his compassionate side.

Harry's face fell, he was angry at her, she knew it. "Hermione, how could you get yourself into this mess? You're supposed to be the smart one. I'm the one who reacts emotionally and does stupid things in the heat of the moment," he gritted, trying hard to keep his voice down.

"Harry, I _know_, I didn't think of the consequences. To be honest, I don't think Malfoy did either. It was just a bunch of boys thinking they had an edge in their stupid competition. They hadn't considered any consequences."

"So because of this potion, Malfoy wants to snog you? I find that hard to imagine," Harry scrunched up his face.

Hermione was feeling rather irate at his comment. Her eyes narrowed at his statment, "What's that supposed to mean? Have you thought that _I_ might not want him to?"

"Hermione, please, of course I didn't mean he wouldn't want to. Any guy would want to, but it's Malfoy: number one Slytherin and all the bigoted mentality that goes with it."

"He doesn't want to; he reckons he's going mad. I think I have, too." Hermione muttered. It brought things into perspective. What had happened in her room wasn't real.

Harry laughed, in a mollifying tone. "So, in summary, you want to jump Malfoy?"

Hermione shoved him, shaking her head and smiling slightly. "If only it were so uncomplicated."

"I just didn't appreciate hearing it from the mouth of the prat himself, you should have told me Hermione, and I might have been able to help. I don't know how bad things are now, but I'm finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that you and Malfoy have been sneaking around, all because of a potion."

"I wouldn't believe it either," she replied, a tone of defeat apparent.

"I'm not judging you Hermione; I just need some time to think. Especially because I have this urge to go after Malfoy and hex him, right after I throw a punch at him. I can't help how I feel Hermione, Malfoy is not my favourite person, and I will be trying hard to restrain myself."

"I appreciate that, but please don't make it worse. The last think I want is for the whole school finding out." She was pleading with him now, a sense of guilt overcoming her.

"So that whole ordeal in the Great Hall at dinner. What was that about?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy doesn't want me hanging around Blaise."

"I wouldn't want either of them hanging around you, but why Blaise?"

How on earth could she describe his possessive behaviour? "He found out Blaise likes me." Her explanation did not go down well.

"Oh well, now that's just the cherry on top." Harry scolded. "So Dean is right then, you and Blaise too, huh? Well Hermione, I 'm not so sure I want to hear anymore. It might substantiate the crap Malfoy told me." Harry stood up, looking at her as though she were a stranger. She could feel her heart being wrenched out from her throat.

"Harry, please – " She stood up to face him.

"You're throwing this at me all in one hit, I need some air," he broke her off. She could see the betrayal in his eyes, their bright emerald shade dulling with disappointment.

Hermione could only nod, he had taken it well, for the most past. He walked out of the common room. She waited a few minutes before exiting to go to the kitchens. She needed comfort food, a large dose of it.

She was a long way off from a reprieve.

* * *

A/N: Ah, Harry. :p I am already excited about the next chapter. When Hermione comes face to face with Malfoy for the first time, and Blaise. hehehe


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: A huge thankyou to all who left a review. I tried to get this chapter out sooner but it has been a shitty week, so my apologies, and special mention to BlotOfInkOnFinger who so uniquely requested quicker updates. Loved it. hehe**

**Happy Halloween! Trick or Treat...a treat me thinks...Happy reading :p**

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There was nothing more to be done to avoid facing a certain individual whose presence blessed the halls of Hogwarts in the eyes of the silver and green cohort, but brought complete distress for one Hermione Granger on a Monday morning. Reluctantly, Hermione proceeded to the Great Hall to commence what would be the most notorious week of her life yet.

She had to face her demons.

The usual buzz and clutter permeated through the great doors as she snuck her way into the Monday morning raucous. At all costs, she would not dare to glance at the Slytherin table to see if he was there. It was too dangerous, for her, for _him_, especially since Harry had promptly rested himself next to her, sitting so closely she could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him. It was almost as if he were generating his own electricity, as her hair appeared to stand on end, reaching toward his school jumper.

She grimaced, feeling overcome by his sudden protective antics; she did not need a body guard, especially not one that hadn't said two words to her since her admissions.

She huffed, blowing the loose strands of hair from her face as she reached for a piece of raisin toast. As chance would have it, Harry had decided to reach for the same piece. She let him take it in fear of a short circuit blowout.

"You can at least say good morning, you know," she said petulantly, for it was the last piece of raisin toast.

The responding grunt would have to suffice. At least he had acknowledged her.

Eyes down, and focused on her plate of food, which she picked at hopelessly, Hermione's skin tingled as the doors to the Great Hall opened. Her body went rigid as she tried to ignore it.

It was…worrying.

Harry must have felt her stiffen like a washboard as he turned his attention to her, the half eaten toast in his hand, his incessant chewing suddenly coming to a stop.

The feeling would not abate itself. In fact it grew stronger by the second as she restlessly poked at her eggs.

Abruptly, Harry stood up. She involuntarily turned in reaction.

A chill of fear coursed through her as she faltered, instantly regretting her decision.

The Head boy was standing at the entrance with his attention completely focused on her. Is this what Malfoy had been enduring all along? Surely, a further reaction had not been triggered from their...well...compulsions?

Harry was almost frothing at the mouth, his fists clenched. She pulled at his sleeve pleadingly. He only tugged it away as he began to walk toward the trigger of her emotions.

The rising panic was unbearable. "Harry!" she admonished under her breath, trying not to draw attention to what was about to unfold. The stubborn Gryffindor ignored any plea.

She looked back at Malfoy. His attention had switched to Harry. He looked completely bemused.

This was not looking good.

Decidedly, she stood up and followed, ignoring the incessant wrenching desire that increased with proximity. She grabbed Harry's arm again, pulling it back, "Harry, stop!" she demanded with crisp authority; one befitting of a Head Girl.

It worked. He stopped.

Heads in the vicinity turned. Hermione raised her eyebrows to signal the attention they were now receiving.

"You shouldn't have followed me, Hermione, now everyone knows what I'm about to do somehow involves you," he replied disparagingly.

Confusion was written all over Hermione's face.

"Malfoy!" he barked across the hall to the Slytherin. The Head boy, in all his glory was walking towards them.

She rushed to catch up. "Harry you do this and I am not going to forgive you," she bit out through clenched teeth.

Silence from the Gryffindor.

Hermione was not going to stand for this. She rushed past Harry, toward Malfoy, whose eyes instantly caught hers, a look of horror apparent on his face which she presumed was his response to _the _reaction that had unleased itself on her.

She was falling.

But, she didn't stop, increasing her pace.

She reached Malfoy, grabbing his robes at the arm and pulling him with her back toward the doors. If Harry was going to follow them out, then so be it. At least they would not have an audience.

"Granger, what do you think you're doing?" he seemed thoroughly agitated. "I have an image to uphold." The funny thing was that he did nothing to release himself from her hold.

"Shut it, Malfoy," she snapped. The ungrateful prat, didn't he realise he was about to walk straight into an altercation with Harry?

They passed through the great doors; their echoing thud as they shut signalled their isolation.

She let go of him like he was on fire. They glared at each other, but she didn't miss the strained attempt at malevolence as his stare waned.

He blinked.

"Harry knows," she admitted, probably to distract herself from him.

"Potter knows what, exactly?" he retorted, his sharp fierceness instantly returning.

"That you're a fucking piece of Slytherin shit, Malfoy."

Malfoy turned as Hermione identified the owner of the caustic insult.

The infamous smirk crossed his face. "Morning Potter, perfect conditions for frivolities, don't you think?" Hermione gaped at Malfoy's response.

Harry was seething.

The next thing she registered was that Malfoy had been forced up against the wall, Harry's wand jabbed into his throat.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted with surprise.

"You have no idea, Malfoy. You. Crossed. The. Line." Harry dug his wand in further with every word.

"Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he grimaced. Hermione stood frozen; registering Malfoy's building emotional outburst, his rage apparent.

He had triggered the potion.

She shuddered, as she felt something awaken within her, filtering through.

With an unimaginable strength Malfoy retaliated against Harry, pushing off the wall with such power that Harry stumbled, losing his balance and falling to the floor, his wand sliding across the cold stone.

They were both panting, Harry from his shock as he stood up, coursing his fingers through his hair to compose himself, and Malfoy from uncontrollable rage.

"Potter, you're too obvious. Mind your fucking business," he growled.

This is my _fucking _business!" he barked back. "Don't think you can get away with this. I can see what you've done to Hermione, not just the last few months, but for the last seven years. You can't even bloody respect her as Head Girl."

Hermione cringed at his words.

Malfoy straightened up. "Granger got herself into this mess; she can get out of it." His voice was terse, cold and bitter. He turned away, his eyes locking with hers for the briefest moment, a powerful eruption of anger and regret consumed her as she sensed his every emotion.

Her breath caught.

He stormed off without further comment.

Harry walked over and collected his wand. He looked back at Hermione, who finally registered that he was staring at her, a puzzled pensive expression written on his face.

"What's wrong with you Hermione? Am I stupid for wanting to defend my best friend? Don't I have a right to be angry?" his tone was as calm as the wind before a deadly storm. It did not bode well with her at all. She had never known Harry be so incensed with anyone, to the point of utter disappointment and defeat.

"Harry, you don't understand. You never will. It's too hard to explain now. You've only made it worse," she snapped.

She watched his mind reeling behind his eyes. His demeanour softened.

"I'm sorry for nearly causing a scene in front of everyone. I just went away last night and couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said about you, and what you'd told me. My mind was reaching some rather unsavoury conclusions. I mean you and _him! _I don't care what the circumstances."

Hermione felt betrayed. He had completely disregarded anything she had told him about the effects of the potion. "Yeah, well, you probably weren't too far off the mark," she retorted angrily.

Harry looked taken aback.

Hermione shook her head. "Of course you believe _that_. You believe the worst of me. That is not what friends are supposed to do."

She walked off.

* * *

Ron sat with her in Transfiguration; she remained unmoved, blinking sparsely as she stared at her textbook cover.

"Hermione, have I done something? Did I say something at the Gryffindor party?" Ron asked.

"What? Oh, uhm, no Ron, of course not." She shook her head, smiling reassuringly, although somewhat distractedly.

"Well, does it have anything to do with what Seamus said this morning?"

Her eyes widened nervously, she looked away. "What would Seamus know?" she asked shortly.

"He reckons Dean upset you yesterday, made some passing comments about you and Zabini."

Hermione clutched the edge of her desk.

She would be seeing Blaise in potions today.

"What about it?" She inquired innocently. Ron regarded her silently. He was not buying her act of ignorance.

"Hermione, I am not trying to pry, or whatever, but it's kind of uncharacteristic for you and Zabini to be mentioned in the same sentence, by anyone."

"That's enough talking!" the Professor snapped, directing her attention to Ron. He slid back in his chair, but not before giving Hermione a final consolatory glance. She felt a little more relaxed that he wasn't set out to bite her head off like Harry.

With some effort, she finally absorbed herself in her class work, but that creeping feeling of what could unfold in potions would not subside.

* * *

The stale air of the dungeons led Hermione to the potions classroom. She knew she was late, but she could not bring herself to arrive early for fear of any precluding interactions with Blaise and Malfoy together before Professor Snape arrived.

The potions classroom door was shut. She was definitely, _noticeably,_ late.

Inhaling deeply in preparation, she pressed on the door handle and walked into the classroom. All eyes were on her. If she were ever in a position of scrutiny, it was now.

A rush of adrenaline pumped through her as an irrational fear overcame her. Did she still look the same?

"Miss Granger, I am waiting to hear your excuse for your tardiness," the Professor remarked snidely.

"Yes, sorry Professor, I needed to attend to some unforeseeable Head duties." Oh, she had never lied to a teacher before, and it certainly seemed a little too easy on this occasion.

Professor Snape did not look impressed in the slightest. "Sit down, Miss Granger, I am demonstrating new potions today so I don't need you wasting any more time," he directed irately.

She began walking up the aisle toward her seat, passing Malfoy, catching his intense gaze as his eyes followed her. He was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, and his forearms bare from his rolled up sleeves, his hair almost completely shielding his face.

Her eyes remained on him, as if all other persons in the room were absent.

It was unnerving.

It was horridly disconcerting.

She was undeniably attached to him in some indefatigable way that had now been sealed by their unspeakable actions.

He broke the connection as she passed him. She looked up at Blaise, only to find that he had been watching the whole exchange.

She forced herself to smile at him before sitting down in her seat.

"Hi," she whispered nervously.

He turned and nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. It was almost as if his carefree demeanour brought a release of pent up pressure.

She smiled slightly, looking away, and caught sight of Dean who was eyeing her accusingly.

It riled her to no end, and she found herself sliding up closer to Blaise in reprisal.

Perhaps it was to overcome whatever she wanted to forget, or just to goad Dean along, or to distract Blaise from second guessing what had occurred between her and Malfoy.

Blaise eyed her with amusement.

"What's up with you today?"

"Just play along," she heard herself respond as she looked back at Dean. Blaise leaned closer, his breath on her ear.

"Happy to play along, Hermione," he whispered. She shivered in reaction as his hand brushed over hers.

Whatever her expression showed, it certainly made Dean scowl.

She turned to face Blaise, ignoring Snape's demonstration completely.

"We've just fuelled rumours, you know, but apparently no one believes the truth anyway." She whispered, shrugging. Blaise seemed thoroughly surprised.

"And, what do these rumours entail exactly," he raised an eyebrow keenly. His was being such a flirt; she was falling for his every move. It was nothing like Dean's trying attempts, or Malfoy's unstable behaviour.

It was light hearted, and playful.

It soothed her.

"Hmmm, well you'll just have to make the effort to find out," she replied cheekily. What was wrong with her?

And then it hit her.

Malfoy.

His activation of the potion in him had triggered it in her.

She was feeding off Blaise's demeanour.

"What if I guess," he whispered, his fingers running up her arm.

She loved every second of it.

And, they were in the middle of potions.

Malfoy be damned.

"I will neither deny it, nor affirm it," she offered.

"I bet I already know." His hand disappeared underneath the table and rested on her knee, circling it playfully. She almost jumped out of her skin. Could she allow this to continue without breaching the dreaded contract?

She wanted to. Oh, how the potion made her want to. There was this covet to disregard all protocol and propriety. But, her Head status was on the line.

She moved her hand under the table and placed it over his, bringing his ministrations to a stop. She didn't go as far as remove it, however.

"There is the little matter of proving it," she teased, before lifting his hand and placing it on his own knee. She left her hand on top of his, needing the warming comfort.

Perhaps that was not the right move, as she barely caught the darkening of his eyes; from a bright sapphire to a deep sea blue.

"Should I still be playing along? I mean, whose going to see out under the table antics?" he replied seriously, as she registered the look he was giving her.

The screeching noise of a seat being pushed back hurriedly broke their interaction as they both turned their attention to the source of the noise.

Malfoy was standing, gathering his things as though his life depended on it.

Hermione instantly pulled her hand away. Blaise shot her a quizzical glance.

"Mr Malfoy, what is the meaning of this interruption?" Professor Snape shot, albeit somewhat more civilly for this favourite student.

"Professor, I've...I've just remembered a prior commitment I must go to," he replied, clearly distracted by something. Malfoy had never looked so preoccupied or distressed in public.

"Can it not wait until the end of the class?" he asked irately.

"No Professor, it cannot," he said with such finality, the Professor was almost silenced into submission.

"Very well, but please return to see me after lunch."

Malfoy had already left.

The classroom was full of subdued murmurs, everyone had lost concentration, wondering what had happened to the Head Boy for him to storm out after such a disruptive display. Hermione sat in her seat quietly, fiddling with her quill.

"Is the something going on with you and Malfoy?" Blaise questioned abruptly.

Hermione merely shook her head, unable to speak. She had given it away. Yet, her body had instinctively reacted, seemingly predicting Malfoy's outburst.

She recalled their conversation that night in her hideaway. He had sensed Blaise's reaction to her, and she had definitely stirred one.

_L'etat esprit _should have been called _L'esprit emprisone_.

They were all trapped together.

* * *

A/N: Not so happy days...


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I am back! Finally!! Hope you all had a happy christmas/festive season/yuletide. Many many apologies for my delay. It took a bit of effort to get back into the swing of things. Was it worth it? I certainly hope this chappie revitalises your following of the story. :p**

* * *

Hermione traipsed through the hallways with trepidation, her heart rate increasing as she turned every corner. She had been avoiding all Slytherins since the classroom incident two days ago. As for Harry, he seemed to be keeping his distance.

She turned toward the library, relieved to find the corridor empty. She was a Gryffindor on a mission, to resolve this whole _l'etat d'esprit_ debacle and get on with her life. Things had gone too far.

As for Malfoy, his abrupt exit from the classroom had spread like wildfire, and only fuelled the rumours that he was suffering from the rare condition of wizard's delirium, especially given his prior behaviour in the Great Hall. Things only escalated after he had gone off at the Slytherin Quidditch team at practice that very afternoon. No one dared to cross his path. Not even Hermione.

For the last few days, Hermione had risen early, rushed out of the Head digs, and returned late, choosing to spend most of her free time nestled in her hideaway, which she mindfully ensured was always sealed from intruders. At meal times, she had hurriedly grabbed a pile of food, mumbling something about being busy to the quizzical Gryffindors and removed herself from the Great Hall. Harry ignored her every time, and Ron had noticed the friction between them. Her constant flustered state was due to the disparaging flux of emotion that signalled Malfoy's presence every time he was in the vicinity, and it took all her attention not to act on it. She had to avoid him at all costs. Occasionally, she'd caught him staring as she walked out of the Great Hall, the intensity of his gaze was enough to set her insides on fire.

Hermione entered the library and approached Madam Pince to request a study carrel.

"Afternoon, Hermione," the librarian looked out over the rim of her glasses and smiled.

"Hello Madam Pince, I was hoping to use a study carrel?"

"Hmmm, I'm afraid most have already been reserved for the afternoon. Fifth year preliminary OWLS are already upon us. My, how the year is progressing! How long did you want it for, dear?"

"The whole afternoon, preferably." She should have just gone to the fourth floor, but even her hideaway was distracting. The contract, the puzzling tapestry: it was all tainted with Malfoy, just like everything else.

"Just a minute, dear, I'll go check the books," she wandered off, leaving Hermione to peruse at the new titles that had just arrived and were piled up on Madame Pince's desk.

"Thought I'd find you here," a somewhat amused male voice disrupted her train of thought. She whipped around to see one rugged Theodore Nott staring at her, smiling, eyebrows raised, and books in hand.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she snapped.

His smile faltered to a frown as he pressed at the nose of his glasses to readjust them. "Uhm, you were going to help me with Transfiguration, remember?"

Shit!

"Oh. Right," she shifted her weight looking anywhere but at him. Just then, Madam Pince returned holding a set of keys. She looked from Hermione, to Theo, and back, probably sensing the sudden tension in the vicinity. Hermione smiled, a little over cheerily to soften the atmosphere.

"Well dear, you can have use of room 5; just don't mention I didn't make you reserve it in advance."

"Thank you," Hermione gratefully took the keys. Madam Pince nodded assessing Theo over the rim of her glasses before smiling at Hermione and walking away to tend to some returns.

"I guess there are perks to being in here all the time," Theo started. Hermione looked at him, unimpressed and walked toward the carrels, knowing he would follow. He caught up to her. "Look, if you've changed your mind, that's fine, I was just trying to be friendly."

"I've had enough of friendly Slytherins," she mumbled, more for her own ears as she unlocked the door to the carrel.

"What was that?" The mirth in his voice was still apparent.

"Don't feel obliged to be friendly," she looked up at him before walking in. She could see that he was thoroughly perplexed by her behaviour. Setting her bag on the table, she sat down. He sat opposite her, leaning forward as he opened his book and pulled out some parchment and his quill. She watched him silently.

"Why exactly did you want my help again?" she asked suddenly, ready to test the waters. He played with the feather of his quill, before straightening his glasses again and sitting back. He certainly didn't _look_ like he needed a tutor. Why was it that all Slytherins who seemed to cross her path possessed such a streamlined air of confidence?

"I thought we covered this last week? I need a tutor, you came highly recommended, Slytherins don't tend to ask fellow Slytherins to tutor them, and so on and so forth."

"So this has nothing to do with anything else?" Hermione pursed her lips at the stupidity of her question.

The Slytherin's eyes narrowed, a well deserved expression crossing his face as he questioned her sanity. "I have no idea what you're asking me," he finally let out.

"Never mind," her muttering signalled her resignation. They were both silent for a moment, Theo leaned forward expectantly in one fluid motion, bringing her back to reality.

"Right," Hermione chirped, "What topic do you want to revise?"

"How about the theory of the animagus? That's definitely going to be on the written NEWT."

"Animagus?" Hemrione gulped, unable to shrug off the reminder of Malfoy's ancestor, the culpable Albatros Mabruxy. She nodded quickly, before she turned into a dithering idiot. "Okay." He leant over to his bag and pulled out a small moss leather bound book, its pages edged in gold. He placed it on the table and slid it her direction. She grazed her fingers over the scaly skin before looking up at him expectantly.

"I didn't take any notes on this topic -," he paused at Hermione's reprimanding stare and shrugged, "- so I needed a reference book. I found this in the Nott library." He gestured toward the object before her. "This is the cause of my failure on the last test. Apparently, it contradicts everything we've been taught. I believe McGonagall exact comments were 'inaccurate cult hyperbole', and that I should seek to consult a classmate's notes instead since they're more reliably sourced." He let out a chuckle.

Hermione's curiosity had been piqued and she lifted the cover. The parchment of each page was so unusually fine, each sheet was almost translucent. She carefully turned to the title: _The mechanics of the animagus: a historical influence. _"So, what exactly does this book base it's theories on?" she questioned, silently revelling at the fact that she was perusing a rare book from the library of a pureblood legacy.

"According to Hugo Fontagnue, the transformation of becoming an animagus does not require all those years of supposed hard work and commitment. All some witches and wizards need to do is to trigger the ability to transform. He goes on to say that this is predominant where the family history includes a long line of animagi."

Hermione let out a breath. "No wonder Professor McGonnagall failed you." She flicked through the pages, scanning over the text. The focus was clearly on pureblood families, and rather narcissistic.

"Page two-fifty six," he prompted. Hermione looked up at Theo. His polka face was unnerving and she could only oblige. She flipped to the page and read quietly.

_'The purity of blood serves to nullify the requirement to prepare the body for transformation. The animagus represents the most extraordinary magic, and the prominence of animagi amongst pureblood lines reaffirms the undeniable link between blood and strong magic.' _

Hermione groaned out loud. "Theo, why exactly did you choose to show me this?" The bloody prat had an agenda.

"I think you know the answer to that." Hermione glared at him before continuing.

_'There exists a catalyst where the bloodline exhibits a history of animagi dating back three or more generations...although, it has a tendency to skip a generation. The link between master and servant is acknowledged in the process, and the form of animagus remains consistent within bloodlines...' _

Hermione stopped reading, her eyes widening in realisation. She looked up at Theo; he was watching her reaction silently, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he adjusted his glasses with an air of authority.

"Why don't I give you my notes," she suggested, dismissing the underlying reason for his choice of topic as she reached into her bag to retrieve them.

"Sure. I thought you would appreciate this little gem, despite it's questionable accuracy," he remarked, as he took her notes.

Yeah right. He knew exaclty why she was interested.

"Same time next week?" he asked innocently.

She opened her mouth to respond but was unable to formulate an audible response.

"You might want to hold onto that in the meantime," he added. Hermione nodded, pursing her lips. He stood up, collecting his things.

She didn't even notice the Slytherin leave.

* * *

Hermione entered her room, dropping her bag at the foot of her bed before walking straight into her bathroom. She sat on the edge of the bathtub watching the running water fill the tub, half dazed. The more she inquired into the whole affair, the more convoluted it became. Theo had just added another piece to the puzzle.

She loosened the bubble bath tap, and watched the creamy liquid dilute into the tepid water, foam forming as the scent of cinammon and vanilla fillied her nostrils. Mechanically, she undressed and stepped into the soothing pod of mental escape and shut her eyes as her head rested against the end and her toes curled beneath the layer of white froth.

Of all the people involved, Malfoy was playing her for a fool. It was all too much. What angered her most, was this ridiculous new found theory that purebloods did not even have to endure the years of training to become an animagus. But she couldn't exaclty dismiss it, knowing what she did about the Malfoy bloodline.

The sound of her bedroom door shutting diverted her attention back to reality. Her eyes snapped open as she looked toward the doorway. Malfoy stood, watching her, his uniform dishevelled, tie loose, shirt hanging out. Hermione was muted with shock.

"You have a habit of leaving doors open, Granger."

"Get out, Malfoy," she bit back, relieved that the bubbles were concealing her naked form from his prying eyes. His smarmy grin was worse than his usual smirk; he knew she was _feeling_ his presence. He leaned against the bathroom door frame, watching her like a hawk.

"You can't keep avoiding me," he drawled. Hermione subconsciously crossed her arms over her chest, glaring back at him defiantly. Even though she was covered by a thick layer of bubbles, she could never be too sure in the company of a Malfoy.

"I have and I _will_ continue to do so. What happened was a _big_ mistake," she replied tersely, the freshness of the egotistical author and his pureblood dogma dominating her state of emotions. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore his presence. Too bad he walked over and sat on the edge of the bathtub. Hermione automatically retreated, sidling herself as close to the wall as possible.

The prat had the audacity to dip his fingers into the water and wade through the foam, breaking the protective layer.

"Hey!" she shouted in defence. Malfoy looked over at her, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Not like I haven't seen it before," she could see his eyes darkening, the same look of untameable desire materializing. She had to stop herself from reacting.

"Malfoy, this is the last time I will say it. Get out. This is not what we want. I'm trying to retain some control of the circumstances, you should too." She could see that he did not treat her comment lightly as frustration flickered across his face.

"Control, Granger?" he bit out. "After your classroom antics with Blaise, don't preach what you can't practice," he spat, standing up. "You made me look like a blithering idiot. The whole fucking school thinks I've gone off the wall!"

"You only have yourself to thank for that, Malfoy," she retorted.

"You can't make the rules, Granger. You told Potter, any fool can see that the chosen one wants to get in your pants and you made a pass at Blaise, knowing full well my reactions, which mind you, is upheld by a contract."

Hermione was boggled by his remarks. And, what was that about Harry? The Slytherin was pacing about her bathroom, grating on her nerves. It suddenly dawned on her.

"Are you... _jealous_, Malfoy?" she let out slowly. He stopped, frozen in place, his back facing her.

"Granger, don't be absurd. Like you said, we are trying to control the uncontrollable."

She chose to ignore his comment. "Malfoy, I can't believe I'm saying this, but can you pass me my bath robe from behind the door?" She suddenly felt cold. Malfoy could rant on all he wanted about the _uncontrollable_, but it was a mere unforeseeable effect of a very deliberate plan.

And, once again, it took another Slytherin to make her aware of it.

The Head boy hesitated before reaching for the bathrobe. The only thing was, if he handed it to her, it would surely get wet.

"Hang it to the left here, and then turn around," she instructed.

"Hmmm, I think we'll do this my way, Granger," an air of defiance and amusement apparent in his disposition. She narrowed her eyes as he held out the robe, ready for her to slide into it.

"You can't make me do anything, Malfoy. In fact, as I originally suggested. Get out."

"You and I both know that's not going to happen," he stated matter-of-factly. He waved the robe slightly, goading her acquiescence. In a huff, Hermione turned around, stood up, baring herself to him and quickly slid her arms into the robe, grabbing it from his grasp as she tied it in place.

She turned around and glared at the smug Slytherin and stepped out of the tub. He had moved to the side, propping himself up on the vanity.

There was only one way to deal with him.

Nothing like the element of surprise.

"Malfoy, you scoundrel, all this time I believed your petty excuses, when, in reality, you're trying to become an animagus," she stated with a sickly saccharine note in her voice.

He blinked, confusion written all over his face.

"Excuse me?" his voice level yet, threatening.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Quidditch was just a ruse for your efforts. A clever one, at that. After all, _l'etat d'esprit_ serves multiple purposes does it not? Why not involve your fellow Slytherin rat pack while testing the very boundaries of your _worthy_ pureblood status. _Are _you worthy enough Malfoy? Is the ability to become an animagus ingrained into your blood line?" she tested.

Malfoy stood tall and stiff, his eyes boring into hers with utmost distaste. "Are you out of your mind Granger? Where the fuck do you get off mocking me like that?" he thundered.

Hermione frowned, puzzled by his reaction. What was Theo playing at? Had she jumped to conclusions too soon?

She remained quiet. He approached her with determination, grabbing her arm.

Big mistake.

Her attention instantly diverted to the sensations of his touch. She almost whimpered under his hold. It was one thing to control their attraction at arm's length, but there were no boundaries once either of them crossed the line. "I'm sorry, there's been a misunderstanding," she managed, avoiding his gaze.

"Explain yourself, Granger," he demanded, his voice husky and strained. Hermione shook her head. There was no holding back; the haze hanging over her was too domineering.

She felt the tie on her bathrobe loosen. Malfoy, while still holding her arm, had moved to undo it as he guided her back toward the vanity. He pulled it open and grabbed a hold of her hip with his free hand. She was utterly exposed before him.

"Answer my question, Granger." His hand roughly ran up along her waist, to her breast. His thumb grazed over her nipple unapologetically. She groaned at the contact as her toyed with her.

"It's...nothing. For...get...it," she breathed, closing her eyes. The Slytherin released his hold on her arm, and she felt him grip her waist as he pushed her against the vanity, his body flush against her bare skin.

"That's not good enough," he ground out, bringing his mouth over hers, before pressing his lips down with demanding finality. She opened her mouth willingly, as his hands roamed over her body.

He was retaliating by attacking her with the one thing she was trying to control.

Her reaction to him.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: The quickest update for the...well...year! Happy 2010! xx  
**

* * *

Was it even possible to label something 'a mistake' if it happened a second time?

Hermione was wedged between the vanity and Malfoy, his hands had come around to grip her thighs as he lifted her up and seated her on the bench top. It wasn't as though the whole scene of events that she was currently privy to were taking place behind rose coloured glasses of lust and irrationality. The more contact she had with Malfoy, and the longer it lasted, the clearer the whole situation became.

Could Hermione let herself admit that she had missed the Slytherin's lips on hers after a mere two days?

That is exactly how she felt, as Malfoy tugged at her lower lip, while his hands gripped at her hair, the wet mass of her curls tousled around them. His tongue massaged hers with such an impious abandon, she had willingly opened her legs to him.

But did she miss his lips because they were his, or because they brought with them a release only he could provide?

It no longer mattered as her hands lifted his shirt tails and crept underneath. The feel of his skin brought with it a smidgen more satisfaction as he leaned against her, and she felt all of him.

Malfoy suddenly broke away, his hands still cupping her head as he stared into her eyes with intrigue, his nostrils slightly flared, and his breaths short.

Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"Why did you stop?" she heard herself ask, before she could register the nature of her question. His eyes wrinkled with amusement and satisfaction.

Her hands were still beneath his shirt, resting on his abs.

"I think we need to set some ground rules, Granger," he let out, his voice heavy as he slid his hands down Hermione's neck, across her collar bone and down between the valley of her breasts, before he cupped them and let his thumbs graze over her aroused peaks. Hermione barely registered his words as her eyes closed involuntarily and she moaned at the contact.

"Not while... y- you have the upper hand, Malfoy," she managed, opening her eyes and giving the Slytherin a most sly grin as she brought her hands to his belt buckle, undoing all the hooks, buttons and zips restraining his reaction to her. She tugged at his trousers and boxers, and took him in her grasp. She began to stroke him.

"Two can play this game," he breathed, as he brought one hand down and rubbed where she would react most. His fingers toyed with her, working at her in a rhythm that mimicked her actions on him.

She was so ready for him; she instinctively arched into his fingers, and gripped him tighter. He groaned against her shoulder as he leant over to support himself.

Were they even in a position to agree on anything?

"If -, he let out a groan between breaths. Hermione smirked. He pressed down on her sensory nub and rubbed voraciously, returning the favour. She moaned, the now familiar pull in her lower abdomen intensifying. "If...we do this, you need to stop...pretending that you don't... want this," Hermione's eyes snapped open as she exhaled.

"You need to stop being a prick," she breathed, releasing her hold on him, pushing him away. They were both left in a state of unfulfilled frustration, eyeing each other down, both bare and aroused.

If they were going to have a face off, why not bare it all? She leant back and sprawled her arms out to support her weight, her posture opening up to him. She could see the effect on him as he stared at her hungrily.

"Granger!" he growled with aggravation at the sudden turn of events. "What I meant is that we acknowledge this," he gestured toward their nakedness, "and just go with it."

Hermione could feel the discomfort of unsated pleasure as the dull throb between her legs only served to irritate her more. She groaned out loud at his comment, dismissing it.

"Malfoy, you're only saying that because you want to get laid. Tomorrow, it will be the same old game between us. We can't go on like this! How will I pass my NEWTs!" She exhaled with exasperation.

The Slytherin had the audacity to laugh. "Typical Granger, of course you're worried about grades." He took a deep breath, holding the bridge of his nose as if he were struggling with a concept. "I don't need your help to get laid, Granger," he bit out, "I need..." he opened his eyes, and waved his arms toward her vaguely.

Hermione glared back at him, frustrated, "just say it, Malfoy, or get out."

"Fine!" he thundered, before lowering his tone at the crux of the issue, "I need _you_." He watched her reaction closely, taking in every minute muscle movement.

"Oh," she murmured quietly, suddenly very aware of her surroundings and current state. She sat up straight and moved to cover herself with her robe. Malfoy stepped forward.

"Don't." She was flummoxed by the gentleness of his tone. He leaned into her, tracing his lips along her shoulder, nipping up her neck to her chin before sealing his lips with hers once again. He was testing the waters, kissing her slowly and carefully, waiting for a signal to resume where they had left off.

You can't make the same mistake twice.

She pulled back. "You _can't_ be serious?" he ran his fingers thorough his hair, sighing with resignation. Hermione remained silent for a moment.

"Your shirt's still on," she stated finally, her lips curling into an audacious smile as Malfoy looked at her, incredulous. She slid off the vanity top, and stepped up to him, beginning to undo the buttons of his oxford. He stood silent as she reached the last button, letting her hand graze over his arousal as she reached his lower abdomen. She wondered if she was torturing him by letting him wait so long. The whole prospect of it made her cheeks burn.

The Slytherin chuckled at her reaction, it only made her more conscious of the novelty of it all.

It was clear that Malfoy wanted to move things along, as he pulled off his shirt in haste and snuck his hands under Hermione's robe, letting it slip off her once and for all. It was her turn to let out a small laugh as the battle for control was once again in his favour. It seemed that nothing perturbed a Slytherin with a hard on.

There was no need for further introductions or acknowledgment of their readiness as Malfoy attacked Hermione's mouth with a heated fervour that stirred the fire within the pit of her stomach. He pushed her back against the tiled wall, the coolness on her back heightening the warmth of his body flush against hers.

All this waiting and taunting had worked them both up to a fenzy and she felt herself being lifted up against the wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around the Slytherin's body, drawing him in. A small moan at the feel of skin on skin escaped her lips. Hermione adjusted herself and felt him against her opening, teasing her entrance as his lips devoured hers, his hands gripped against her waist, pinning her against the wall.

She moaned into his mouth, grinding herself against him to signal her readiness.

The second time was definitely different. There was no need for formalities, he waited for her to adjust and she instinctively allowed herself to relax. The experience was overwhelming, she felt every single sensory ending burst into flame, revelling in the sensations rather than worrying about the mechanics.

It was frantic and needy.

It made for a whole new level of the uncontrollable as she submitted to her satisfaction, her body arching into him and her head falling back against the wall as he attacked her neck. Their now perspiring bodies making it harder to control the friction as he drove into her.

Instinctive gasps echoed against the tiled walls, as the sound of their heavy breaths filled the space. Hermione gripped Malfoy's shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as her flame burst, her body clenching and releasing around him. She was so focused on her body's reaction, she hardly noticed the sound of his release enveloping them.

It was the best exhaustion she could fathom.

Malfoy leaned into her as they regained control of their hear rates, kissing at her neck before grazing over her ear, whispering, "I can assure you, Granger, _this_ won't be on _any_ NEWT examination."

She trembled slightly, the exertion taking its toll as her mind processed his comment.

The prat was still _inside_ her. "Let me down, Malfoy." He really didn't have an ounce of thoughtfulness. He obliged, sensing her tone of dissatisfaction.

"It was a joke, Granger," he reasoned. She walked over to her robe, covering her perspiring body.

"Some joke, Malfoy." He knew how she felt about her studies.

"Fine, whatever," he began to redress. Hermione walked out of the bathroom, ignoring the slight discomfort that her body was still adjusting to. She reached for her book bag, pulling out the reference from the Nott library.

To think that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger could ever reach an accord on anything was the first stumbling block of their whole affair. But, to consider that it was over their sleeping arrangements, the sort that would get one into all sorts of nooks and crannies of the Hogwarts castle, would have been enough to give both of them a hernia.

He had admitted his _need_ for her, but no ounce of respect had come with that. It meant nothing more than what was necessary. She turned to him as he walked out of the bathroom, his gaze inscrutable. How predictable.

She shoved the book into his chest.

"You should read this, I don't have the time." He grabbed it just as she let go, his fingers stroking the scaly leather cover. "Oh, and its Theo's," she smirked, knowing that would rile him.

His eyes narrowed at her name drop, although she couldn't tell if he was angry at the fact that she had met with Theo, or that Theo had informed her of something that would expose Malfoy. Who knew how those cunning, self-serving Slytherins operated.

Shaking her head to rid her overbearing thoughts, she walked over to her bedroom door and opened it, signalling her desire for him to exit. Malfoy came toward her, pausing momentarily as if he planned to say something, and then thinking the better of it before stepping out of her room. As she moved to close the door, he finally turned.

"Granger, always a pleasure," he drawled, an apparent disinterest in the whole affair washing over him. She had failed to notice the flicker of hesitation in his eyes before his snide remark.

"Fuck off," her choice of words did not escape either of them as she slammed the door.

Who said it wasn't possible to make the same mistake twice.

* * *

It was somewhat easier to emotionally detach from recollections of the heated session in her bathroom. Then again, it had only been twelve hours since she had tamed her prodigious desire.

Was it a bad sign that she was counting?

If it wasn't for the damned contract staring her in the face, Hermione could have been less creative in her endeavours to seek vengeance against one Draco Malfoy. He had pushed her buttons into overdrive, and she was determined to act out.

She leaned back into the velvet arm chair, kicking her shoes off and lifting one leg to tuck it under the other.

A contract always had a technical loophole.

To arrive back to her original vendetta – to drive the Head boy out of the Head digs – only meant one thing. Hermione Granger, despite her shameful, ill driven attraction toward Malfoy, still despised him. She took hold of the parchment to scan over each of their obligations slowly.

She glanced down at their signatures; Malfoy had scrawled his name almost illegibly save for the first letters of his name, which dominated in elegant script, and his egotistical 'y' that looped all over the place. It oozed authority, like it meant something to bear the name Draco Malfoy compared with her neat, orderly mark.

It was apparent that they should have both lost their head badge twice over by now. Hermione had done nothing to avoid the other Slytherins, she had played Malfoy prior to his Quidditch match, and her only endeavour to find a cure was to spin a whole new web of variables.

Her eyes travelled over his obligations. He had barely been civil to her, he was still a right prat when it came to Head duties, and he had hardly exercised self control, storming out of the classroom _and_ barging into her bathroom unbeknownst to her relaxing state to cunningly seek out a replay of events. She finally blushed at the thought. After all, she was the one who had finally succumbed to his advances.

And then, she saw it.

Her loophole.

Hermione's eyes gleamed as she leaped up, a triumphant smile brightening her face.

She slipped her shoes on, rolled up the contract, and stared up at the look alike Malfoy in the enigmatic tapestry smugly. "The pleasure is all mine, Malfoy," she announced, before exiting with a determined pace.

* * *

Hermione had always despised patrolling the dungeons. It was enough to endure potions in the depths of the cold castle, but being there any other time sent involuntary shivers down her spine. She still felt uneasy, even with her sense of purpose, as she made her way to the Slytherin dorms.

A group of fifth year girls emerged from behind the vault entrance in the thick stone walls. She straightened up, knowing that even her most confident air of authority as Head girl would be easily dismissed. They blocked the entrance, eyeing her carefully.

"I have duties to oversee in the Slytherin common room, so if you girls don't mind, I'm kind of in a hurry," she stated impatiently. They eyed her up and down, before one stepped forward.

"Draco usually looks after Slytherin house business, why the sudden change?" she inquired accusingly. Hermione rolled her eyes, and pulled out the rolled up contract. "I have orders from the Headmaster," she directed, "not that I need to prove myself to you, I have a right to withhold information from non-prefects. I'd rather get this over with before dinner, the dungeons tend to spoil one's appetite," she responded.

The almost black eyes of the Slytherin remained fixed on her momentarily, before she tilted her head and her lips curled into a sly smile. "Fine," she retorted, gesturing for the girls to clear the passageway. "Oh, watch out for the snakes." The other girls giggled as they walked away.

Hermione stared after them, momentarily surprised by the Slytherin's audacity to threaten the Head girl. She turned into the vault's entrance, staring into the blackness of her destination. She suddenly felt the hairs behind her neck stand on end.

'Get it together, Hermione!' she mentally berated as she stepped into the darkness.

The gradual appearance of torches signalled her arrival into the Slytherin common room as the tunnelled corridor transformed into a great fan vaulted, column flanked, high gothic space of spectacular height. It was so strikingly different to the cosy Gryffindor common room, with its cool green Persian rugs, its dark leather couches, and great fireplaces.

All in all, it was tasteful, frosty, unfeeling.

She could never curl up and relax in here.

Her presence seemed to be noticed by a few nearby third years, eying her with vague intrigue as she began to walk through the common area. Although they were on their own turf, they dared not show their disrespect, the greater goal of house points governing their demeanour. A young boy stood up, nodded at her meekly before disappearing into the recesses of the areas where the older students sat. She followed after him, figuring he was reporting her unconventional visit.

The space was so vast, the stone columns so thick, her view of what lay behind each of them could only be assumed. She walked along, looking into each area, ignoring the surprised looks, the sneers, the grimaces and the whispers. She could not believe the hostility in the air, after all these years. It made her realise one thing - if any of these Slytherins _ever_ found out about her and Malfoy, any semblance of respect for the Head girl by this lot would go straight out the window.

Not to mention the reaction from her own house mates, except for Lavender and Pavarti of course.

She frowned, ignoring the fleeting moment of compassion for Malfoy and his bloody image. They were both walking on eggshells with this whole 'thing' and she was certain _he_ would never have such a passing thought of its effect on her.

Suddenly, Daphne emerged from behind one of the columns, catching her off guard. Hermione almost yelped as she registered the glaring blonde.

"Daphne," she stated, trying to calm her pounding heart. What was wrong with her?

"What brings _you_ here, Granger?" Daphne was all too intrigued by unusual company. They stood eyeing one another, Daphne waiting expectantly for a response, Hermione trying to maintain her cool at the fact that she had to even give one.

"What's going on here?" a voice interrupted. Hermione averted her eyes from Daphne, straight into the sparkling sapphires of one Blaise Zabini. She wanted to exhale with relief but his stony face was hardly inviting a smile from the familiar.

Hermione pursed her lips, breathing out quietly through her nose, wondering how best to approach the situation. She was not one for backing down from a challenge, and she was going to see her plan through.

It didn't help that Daphne decided to link arms with him, leaning into him like he was claimed.

Ignoring Daphne, she turned toward Blaise, relying on her gaze to signal her need.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked straight out.

"Why would Blaise want to talk to _you_," Daphne sneered. It wasn't even a question.

Hermione ignored her, keeping her eyes on Blaise, knowing that it was annoying the blonde next to him.

He nodded slightly, understanding the context of her request. "Oh, shit, I totally forgot we had that potions task to finish. At least being your partner serves one good purpose, Granger," he smirked, a twinkle in his eye. Daphne frowned. Blaise turned to her smiling, "Sorry, Daph, I completely blanked that Granger had made me meet her in the library. Nice of you to come and remind me, Granger," Hermione could sense the amusement in his voice.

Daphne probably read it as sarcasm. "It's not something worth remembering," she taunted.

"Glad I could refresh your memory," Hermione said flatly, rolling her eyes.

"I just need to grab my books, you might need to come help me lug some of them, Pince is going to fine me a whole lot of galleons if I don't return them," Blaise stated, his tone indifferent. It was still unclear whether he was keeping up a charade or if he was still annoyed with Hermione. He unlinked his arm from Daphe, "I'll catch up with you at dinner Daph?" he gave her that dazzling smile that would make any girl melt like chocolate.

"Sure, Blaise, we'll continue where we left off," she kissed his cheek, eyeing Hermione off before walking away.

Was that a pang of...jealously? Hadn't she only just tamed the potion's effect with Malfoy?

Once Daphne was out of earshot, Blaise spoke up again, "pretty brave of you to enter Slytherin domain, Hermione," he whispered as he gestured for her to follow him to his dorm room.

"Pretty presumptuous of you to think that I would accompany you to your dorm room, Blaise," she whispered back, half smiling.

"You are, aren't you?" he grinned, much to Hermione's relief, and led her to the back of the common room to a portrait of a hooded wizard with a great snake coiled around his shoulders and dozens at his feet. He whispered a password, which Hermione failed to catch as she was too busy recalling the fifth year's threat to watch out for the snakes. It was clear that she had meant the Slytherin guys. They stepped through the portrait into a hallway flanked with doors. Blaise opened one near the end and led her inside.

"So, what really brings you down here? As far as I know, you have no outstanding potions work, nor will you ever," Blaise questioned as he shut the door and turned to face her, leaning against it.

Hermione scanned over the room, before turning around and pulling out her rolled up parchment.

"I need you to help me brew a batch of _l'etat d'esprit,_" she stated.

His stony expression returned as his eyes narrowed. "I thought we were past all this? Besides, Draco's the only one with the _blue blood_," he finally let out.

"Wrong, Draco has _a_ version of_ blue blood_."

* * *

A/N: Oooh, what has Hermione realised? A very fun chappie to write. Alert it, review it...please! xo


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Finally, a chance to update. xx  
**

* * *

Hermione watched Blaise as he tried to de-crypt her statement.

He was struggling. She smiled at him wryly, feeling somewhat guilty that she was keeping him in the game.

"Let me get this straight, you want to brew your own version of _blue blood_? How is that even possible?" he questioned, pushing off the door and walking up to her. She had failed to notice how scruffy he looked.

Hermione suddenly felt stupid for seeking him out.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you and Daphne," she offered, playing with the edges of the rolled up contract in her hand.

"You didn't," he stated dismissively. "Are you trying to avoid my question?" his eyes narrowed.

She shook her head. "No, I'm running on intuition here, it's my only chance to set things straight." His scrutinising gaze was making her second guess her motives for coming here.

"I see you're about as cryptic as a Malfoy. I guess you have every reason to ask me since it was my screw up that caused this...connection...for lack of a better word." His faced scrunched up in distaste. If only he knew what really had transpired between her and Malfoy. "Anyway, who am I to refuse the Head Girl's request?"

Hermione exhaled in relief.

"But, answer me this, are you sure it's worth the effort?"

"Yes," she said quickly, the back of her eyelids filling with images of Malfoy pressed up against her as she blinked. She needed to negate her reaction to him, and soon. She was falling into unchartered territory and she had to get out before she drowned.

"Malfoy's version of _blue blood_ is just that, a version. _His_ blood. The blood of _his_ slave. I want to try mixing my own, except it won't be so _'blue'._ It will be the antithesis. _My_ blood." Clearly she had not really given it that much thought. It sounded a lot more far fetched that it had been in her head. Hermione pursed her lips, frowning at her eplanation.

Blaise looked at her like she had grown a second head, clearly not convinced. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't exactly have a slave that calls you master. How do you expect to complete it?"

She paused momentarily, realising she would need to ask the help of a house elf. It went against every grain of her beliefs.

"I think I have it covered," she hinted uncertainly. After all, she was working on a mere inclination, one that had arisen from a figurative loophole.

Hermione glanced at the contract in her hand, the one founded on the _l'etat d'esprit_ potion with _his_ 'blue blood'_._ It had specifically referred to one particular brew by default. The one they had both taken. All she had to do was create a variation, have Malfoy drink it, and voila, he would be in 'breach'. Ignorant to the truth, he would be forced to resign as Head Boy.

But, she was not about to confess her motivations to Blaise. "Sounds good in theory, I'm almost intrigued to see you try," he interrupted her thought process.

"Almost?" she questioned his trepidation, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

"Think about it Hermione, do you really want to meddle any further? It could turn even uglier."

"Since when do you consider the consequences?" she retorted, irritated by his uncharacteristic rationalising. My, how the tables had turned.

He shrugged, "I'm not trying to rain on your parade, you have my curiosity peaked, so I'm in. We should probably get started tonight. It's going to take a month. I'll make a start on the potion; hopefully you know what you're doing with the _blue blood_. We'll need it in three weeks."

She nodded. He gave her a small smile, before walking over to his book bag. He was so obliging, and thoughtful, and such a contrast to Malfoy. He turned to her, confused to see her unmoved and pensive. "Unless...you want to hang out here?" he raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"I don't think that would go down well," she uttered quickly, realising she had been staring. She grabbed the pile of books from his desk that she suspected needed returning.

"Suit yourself, but I'm beginning to feel like you just want me for my brains."

Hermione stiffened and laughed nervously. The Slytherin let out a low chuckle. "Relax, Hermione, I was kidding," he shot her that dazzling smile. Ugh, she was not handling herself well at all. He walked up to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

A slight shiver ran down her spine. She frowned at the reaction.

"Seriously Hermione, maybe you should rethink this whole thing, you don't seem like yourself." Was that concern in his voice? Blaise reached for the stack of books in her hold and took them from her, placing them on the desk as she frowned back at him, unnerved by his sincerity. Her stomach flipped as he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward his bed.

She sat, reluctantly.

"Hermione, if you want my help, I need to know something." He dropped in his book bag and sat down next to her leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She remained silent, her eyes focused on the poster of Puddlemere United above his desk. She knew where this was going, Draco had probably already told Blaise and he just probably wanted to confirm it.

"Has Draco hurt you?"

"What? No!" she exclaimed, agape. "What makes you think that, anyway?"

He eyed her carefully. "You seem different. And, well...we know Draco hasn't exactly been himself lately, but he's normally more vocal about everything, _including_ his qualms about the Head Girl."

"That's a nice way of putting it," she voiced bitterly.

He gave her wry smile as he sat up. "Draco is expected to act a certain way, you've never had that burden, but lately, you seem...conflicted."

"No, I've just had the burden of my blood heritage," Hermione stood up, irate that he felt the need to psychoanalyse. She was _not_ conflicted.

"Well if you want to look at it that way, Draco is not any different, just on the opposite end of the spectrum," Blaise countered.

"And, you?" Hermione asked flatly.

He shrugged, standing up.

"I'm just here for the ride, but you're being awfully defensive about something that is common knowledge."

"I just don't see how Draco's behaviour can be excused because he is _expected_ to act like a superior bigot, one that struts about like he controls the hallways. That's a load of shit that you Slytherins thrive on." Hermione started pacing, her mind reeling, failing to register her slip up at calling him 'Draco'. "You should've seen how a bunch of fifth year girls reacted to me when I said I had business in the Slytherin dorms, like I had no such right to enter because 'Draco looks after Slytherin's business'," she mocked. "I rightfully earned my badge, but for you lot it's just a meaningless trophy, _unless_ you're the Head Boy." Her breaths were ragged as her anger surfaced.

Blaise remained silent. "So, he has hurt you, then," he stated, rather than asked.

"No!" she yelled, unable to control the fat tears that began rolling down her cheeks. "No! I won't let him!" she whimpered, sniffling as she wiped away the evidence of her emotions hastily. She turned away from Blaise trying to regain composure, ashamed that she had broken down in front of him.

She gasped as she felt his hands on her shoulders, gripping her enough to turn her around, her eyes wide at his determined, yet soft expression.

"Hermione, you've always had my respect, I might not have showed it until recently, but it's always been there, with or without your Head Girl status. As for those girls, they're just jealous, because of that very reason. You are respected." His eyes bore into hers, ensuring she registered every word as his grip on her shoulders loosened.

She didn't know what made her do it, perhaps it was his blatant admission of what she had been longing to hear, but Hermione leant it and gently pressed her lips to his.

She could tell Blaise was surprised, as he froze at her movements. Slowly, he submitted, bringing his hands down around her waist and pulling her against him as she tangled her fingers through his thick hair and granted his tongue access. It was sweet, warm, and comforting. His mouth explored hers with a longing that she was unfamiliar with, his hands trailing down to her hips as he led her back to his bed, sitting down on the edge and pulling her onto him.

There she was, straddling Blaise, on his bed, and he was suddenly kissing the life out of her. She had never felt so emotionally needy as she did right now. There was no potion induced lust to drive her into physical submission.

She had complete control, and it was liberating.

Hermione leaned into him, pushing him onto his back. His mouth was rougher than Malfoy's, his stubble grazing against her skin, as he left her mouth, rolling them over and kissing down her neck, running his tongue over her pulse before sucking gently.

A small moan escaped her lips.

"I've wanted to do this for a while," he murmured against her, as he trailed kisses down her décolleté.

"Do what?" she challenged playfully.

"Worship you," he breathed as he lifted her shirt, planting kisses on her bare stomach, all the way up to her breasts. The thin material of her bra did little to conceal her arousal as his mouth took advantage of her state. He was doing all sorts of delicious things to her body and she was in no state to refuse him, reacting to his touch.

Sparks of arousal hit her abdomen.

Hermione felt the Slytherin's fingers crawl underneath her skirt, caressing her thighs as he pushed the material up to her hip. She was unsure where he was going with this given he was still fully clothed, but he tugged at her panties gently, his fingers curling over the waistband as he pulled them down while he kissed his way down to her stomach once again.

He suddenly broke contact and she lifted herself onto her elbows to seek out his gaze. His mouth was dangerously low to her...well...she was not used to having anyone at eye level down there! She inhaled uncertainly.

"What are you – " There was no need to ask as she felt his tongue tentatively slide its way up to her most sensitive spot.

"Oh," she moaned out loud in surprise as his mouth closed over her nub and he sucked gently, while his fingers teased her opening. She had never imagined having someone do that to her, it was so, well, personal! And, his tongue, the way it curled its way into her, teasing her, drawing whimpers of pleasure from her mouth, it was indescribable!

Her heart rate doubled as her nerve endings reacted to his attentive caresses that froze every thought coursing through her mind. She could not withhold her reaction, and she was certain he would taste it, as her hands grabbed onto the sheets of his bed, and she bucked her hips involuntarily at his relentless pursuit to 'worship' her.

Blaise Zabini had just pleasured Hermione Granger into a state that was almost as effective as being confounded, and all she could do was pant and blush, lying almost paralysed from the release.

Finally, she regained her breath and brought her hands to her skirt, straightening it over her legs in an act of delayed modesty as she caught Blaise watching her from her periphery. He had moved next to her, lying on his side, his head propped up by his hand.

Now what?

This wasn't anything like the aftermath with Malfoy; Blaise clearly wasn't going to insult her, or wait for her to fall asleep before running off. It almost made her feel uneasy, almost. For the most part, she took it to mean that he was not suddenly repulsed by her, or her reaction.

She slowly sat up, fixing her shirt and running her hands over her hair as her eyes caught sight of the Puddlemere United poster. Her eyes stared widely at the door as a horrific, potentially coronary inducing, thought rushed through her head.

"Blaise!" she practically yelped. "Someone might have heard!" The daunting realisation caused an adrenaline rush as she jumped off the bed in flight. She caught sight of her panties on the edge of the bed, and blushed as she grabbed them.

"Hermione, will you please calm down?" Blaise replied casually, amusement written all over his face.

"How can I calm down? Everyone in your common room knows I'm in here!" her face was flustered with panic. Yet, his apparent enjoyment of her state of flux did not dissipate.

He began chuckling.

"Blaise, this is NOT funny!" She slipped her panties on as discreetly and swiftly as possible, praying to Merlin that she would not lose her balance in the process.

"Yes it is," he stood up, his eyes sparkling with thorough delight. He walked over to her, rubbing her arms, trying to calm her down. "You're forgetting one thing. We're in the Slytherin dorms; the _muffliato and silencio _are standard."

She exhaled like she had just surfaced from a gruelling dive, leaning into his hold as she tried to calm her heart rate once again. Her body was going haywire.

"Seriously, Hermione, I like it better when you don't think so much," he whispered in her ear. They burned up at his innuendo and she pulled back, unable to stare him in the eye. After all, he had just been privy to her most private parts!

"I think we better head out to the library though, don't want Daphne getting all suspicious," he quipped, downplaying her discomfort. She smiled slightly, appreciating his efforts.

"Uhm, is this not kind of...well...weird?" she asked suddenly, as he grabbed his book bag once more, before walking over to his desk to collect the stack of books. He turned to her, the pile in his arms, and her contract on the top. Her eyes immediately focused on it.

"Why should it be weird?" he asked, seemingly confused, as he passed her the books, grinning. She took them from him, and he leaned over and pecked her on the lips.

The simple kiss was utterly endearing.

That thought was quickly quashed by the fact that his lips had been elsewhere only moments earlier. She scrunched her face slightly at the thought.

It suddenly dawned on her. Boys had no issue distinguishing business from pleasure. They did what they wanted, when they wanted, without an ounce of consideration of the consequences. As far as they were concerned, most things were taken in stride, especially if they could be qualified. She frowned at the realisation, glancing down at the contract perched on top of the pile, mocking her. She grabbed it, shoving it in her pocket as Blaise turned his back to her and moved to the door.

Hermione followed him out of the snake den, into the cold common room. She had certainly failed to keep her guard up, the misguided threats of the Slytherin girls blooming to mind as the portrait of snakes shut behind them. She decided it was best not to dwell on this one. There had been an attraction between her and Blaise for some time, and he had acted on it in his territory, which she had knowingly entered.

She should have known better. Then again, she smiled slightly at the memory of it before furrowing her brow. Was it strange that she hadn't felt the need to return the favour, or that he didn't expect her to? She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as a flash of a blonde Head body, eyes lust filled and determined, invaded her mind.

And, what on earth was the heavy feeling building in her stomach, churning like she had just betrayed her best friend?

Ugh! She sighed out loud, earning a look from Blaise who led her toward the Slytherin dorm entrance, in a roundabout fashion, to avoid the clusters of Slytherins moping about.

She mentally scolded herself. 'Be a man, Hermione,' she joked. After all, Malfoy seemed to separate his '_need' _for her physically, from his true disposition.

Hermione and Blaise were clearly lost in their own thoughts as they walked in silence toward the library.

"You're not going to avoid me because of what happened?" he asked suddenly. She looked at him questioningly. Shouldn't she be asking him that? 'Ah, the scruples of intimacy,' she thought wryly.

"Shouldn't I be doing the opposite?" she challenged, attempting a light-hearted tackle of the issue. He smiled; she could see a smug satisfaction creeping into his expression. Clearly she had said the right thing, caressing his ego when it came to girls.

She was learning, and quickly.

"Think we can do it again sometime?" She picked up on the mischief in his voice.

"If I didn't have these books in my hand, I'd -"

"Have another go at it?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

"I was going to say, elbow you, but you never know," she played along. He chuckled.

They entered the library, where she dropped Blaise's books at Madame Pince's empty desk. She was relieved to avoid any uninviting scrutiny that she was with yet another Slytherin.

"Brewing time?" he directed. Hermione nodded discretely as a bunch of third years walked past.

The unexpected Slytherin and the Head Girl were engaging in yet another voluntary exercise. Too bad she had failed to notice the faint red glow of the rolled up parchment tucked into her hip pocket.

* * *

Some revelations and some trepidations. Ohh, what shall follow? And, will Hermione be able to get through the month! As for Blaise/Hermione action, don't hate me! It serves its purpose! xo


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: I realise its been over a month since my last update, and all I can say is, "where has the time gone?" It's my b'day this week (25 March) so thought it was high time I posted another chapter as a way of inviting you all to the party! LOL Happy birthday to Megan who wanted an update in time for her b'day. A belated b'day gift to you! Oh, and birthday wishes to my fellow aries buddies! heehe **

**On to the real reason why you have clicked in...**

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It was around midnight when Hermione snuck out of the fourth floor classroom and made her way back to the Head digs. Blaise had departed much sooner. Unaccustomed to her gruelling work ethic, he had left her to prepare the rest of the ingredients.

She was a quick learner, after all.

He had methodically worked her through the process they would need to follow and the strict timeline that ruled their schedule. She had never seen him so confident in his element, as he showed her each ingredient and the conditions of their storage and use. He handled them with the utmost of care and concentration, she was almost wary to go ahead with making it.

"One of us will need to be here daily to check its progress once prepared and see it through to maturity before adding your _blue blood_. After that, we will be practically sleeping in here to ensure the right changes occur, who knows what will happen with your version. Not to mention, I will not be able to rest until that mandrake pus is added," he instructed; a slight distress apparent in his frown.

Hermione gulped, nodding. "We will be counting down to the second when it comes to the mandrake pus," he added.

His focused outlook left her wondering if what happened in his bedroom was just a figment of her imagination. He had left her with so much as a nod, looking fatigued and somewhat pensive.

Hermione was relieved to be walking back to her room, but her mind would not shut down, reeling over her new found commitments and the prospect of spending time with Blaise Zabini.

* * *

She sighed with relief as she stepped into a deserted common room, the unlit fireplace evidencing the lack of occupancy over the last few hours, at the very least. Hermione walked toward her bedroom door, her arms slightly sore from her fine chopping, her eyes stinging from their prolonged focus on a single task. As she reached for her door handle, she heard what sounded like stifled moans emanating from behind the Head boy's bedroom door. Hermione immediately narrowed her eyes, her fingers clenching tightly around the handle as her imagination configured an explanation for such sounds.

She was disgusted.

Not because of what she speculated was occurring behind the closed doors of Draco Malfoy's bedroom, which was unsurprising, but for the rising emotion that was threatening to overthrow her sensibility.

Hermione Granger was jealous.

And, the rage forming in the pit of her stomach was enough to shake the very foundations of the castle. It was inexplicable and consuming.

She dropped her books and proceeded to cross the room blindly to her destination, her common sense quashed into a fleeting cloud of dust. The barrier to his room was non-problematic, as she uttered the password mechanically and threw the door open, stepping past the threshold.

The room was empty and freezing cold, waking her senses.

Hermione stared, wide eyed, at the broken window on the opposite side of the room, the moonlight shining through and reflecting off the shards of glass on the carpet. Puzzled, and curious, Hermione stepped in further, looking for any signs of life.

She was certain she'd heard someone in here only moments ago, and surely she would have heard glass break? Hermione pursed her lips, perplexed at the state of affairs, her mind clear of the indefatigable emotion that had drawn her into the Slytherin's room in the first place. She walked over to the window, careful not to tread on any glass.

The Head girl glanced out. the moon casting enough light for her to make out the lawns and fringe of the forbidden forest below. She heard the hooting of owls beyond her line of sight, but the night looked still and unaffected.

She turned her attention once again to the broken glass, pulling out her wand and muttering '_reparo'._ Malfoy must have thrown something about, she surmised as she scanned the room. There was no other reasonable explanation for it. Seeing nothing else out of order, she walked back into the common room, ignoring the festering guilt of her initial reaction that had driven her into Malfoy's room in the first place.

Hermione's sleep was restless, despite her heavy lidded eyes and physical exhaustion; she had a nagging feeling that she had missed something.

* * *

The incessant tapping against glass only served to intensify her disgruntled state. Hermione shifted sleepily, opening one eye to ease her intake of sunlight. Disoriented, she sat up, moving her hair away from her face and rubbing her eyes to adjust more quickly. Her gaze searched the origin of the interruption.

She spotted a large owl perched at her window, its beak hitting against the glass, in an almost calculated rhythm that grated on her nerves. It caught her gaze in turn, huge stone coloured eyes fixed on her, as it stepped back slightly, anticipating her movements. Hermione threw her duvet to one side and stood up, walking over to let it in. She had never seen such a striking owl; its startling jet black coat took her breath away.

Hermione welcomed the creature into her room, opening the window. "You really know how to get my attention," she mumbled sleepily, reaching out to stroke its feathers gently. It responded automatically, shutting its eyes in appreciation. "I wonder who you belong to," she checked to see if it had any message attached to its feet. She frowned slightly, seeing nothing. Not inclined to wait for her direction, the creature stepped over the window sill and scanned her room. He seemed awfully interested in her bedroom door.

As if trying to emphasise his presence, the owl let his wings expand, the great length drawing her attention instantly as it perched proudly, boasting its size and colouring. She could now see speckles of straw coloured feathers lining the bottom of its wingspan, a startling contrast to the dark as night body.

"I'm afraid I don't have any treats for you," she let out, trying to guess its intentions. The owl retracted his wings instantly, turning his head to her, she could swear it was tilting it at such an angle that was almost unimpressed. It seemed to be debating something as it took two steps toward her, before pausing. She frowned at its behaviour, wondering why it had come to her room. Perhaps it was lost? She searched it for any tag of ownership.

"Were you looking for your owner?" she asked, reaching out to pat its smooth, feathers once again. They were like silk, and she couldn't keep her hands off him. Hermione noticed that the same straw colour of his feathers marked his brow. Again, it did not respond, but instead watched her as she caressed him gently, his posture relaxing against her touch. She was certain that she was emulating a similar soothing response as her restless temperament seemed to dissipate.

Hermione moved to shut the window, the chill was becoming noticeable as she crossed her arms to warm her skin. "Well, I can open the doors for you to go up to the owlery, or you can stay here until I bring you some food," she directed, "but that will be a while." The owl remained unresponsive.

"Fine, well, I'm going to shower, so I'll leave the door open in case you make up your mind," she huffed, realising that talking to the darn owl was a waste of her time. She walked over to her bedroom door and opened it wide, before walking past it again, its head turning to follow her movements into the bathroom.

When Hermione emerged, feeling fresh from her morning routine, the owl was nowhere to be seen. "Figures," she let out plaintively. She just had to take in stride, like everything else lately.

* * *

The most difficult task ahead for Hermione was not brewing _blue blood_ or preparing the _etat d'esprit_; it was facing Draco Malfoy in the prefects meeting that afternoon. Ron walked with her to the designated classroom where Hermione and Malfoy had scheduled the monthly meet to resolve any patrol schedule issues and de-brief prefects.

"I hope this doesn't run too long Hermione, I have detention with Snape after this and I need to finish the essay I was given a detention for not handing in."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, you can leave early if you need to. I'll fill you in on anything you miss." The last thing she wanted was Ron complaining to her that he had yet another detention because he couldn't submit his overdue assignment in the previous one. Was anything ever straight forward these days?

They entered the classroom. A few others were seated casually around the back of the room while Malfoy sat alone at the front, fussing over a pile of parchment. Clearly he hadn't done the rosters for his assigned Slytherin and Ravenclaw rotations.

"We'll start the meeting in a few, Ron. Just need to run over some stuff with Malfoy." Ron nodded, and joined the other prefects. Hermione could see Blaise and Daphne in quiet conversation, he caught her gaze as she walked past, giving her a small nod. She smiled slightly in return and turned her attention to Malfoy.

"Granger, nice of you to come," he piped without looking up, his quill still moving hasitly along the parchment.

"Malfoy, I hope you've finished your rosters. Mine will be completely useless without the other half," she replied tartly, glad that he had not yet looked at her. She placed her things on the table somwhat tentatively.

"Well if your Head of House weren't so deranged, then maybe we wouldn't be in this predicament of having two people do the rostering for an end result that could have been managed by one of us."

Hermione wasn't in the mood for an argument. Normally, she would have responded by now but this was too trivial to challenge. She had more pressing issues occupying her time than trying to rationalise why they had each been asked to arrange a rotating roster for the prefects of two houses and then merge them with each other's to form patrolling partners.

Perhaps it was her silence, or maybe it was that he had finished his plans, but Malfoy looked up at her inquiringly. She just returned his expectant look. "Well, are you ready to start?" The Head Boy broke out into a smarmy grin as he leant back in his chair. Even her inaction caused a reaction in him.

"Ready when you are, Granger," he replied. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

Turning away from him, she called the meeting to order while Malfoy continued to sit in his complacent state of being.

"Okay, so as you know, we have revised patrolling rosters. The Professors have agreed that since we should be used to each other by now, Slytherins and Ravenclaws will only patrol with either a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff but not each other, and vice versa."

A few groans ensued. Hermione ignored them.

"As it is a rotating fortnightly roster, you don't have the pleasure of patrolling with the same person all the time, but you might be partnered with one person more than another depending on the days you nominated your availability. Basically, the intention was to give you the chance to let us work around your other commitments, to avoid the same people patrolling every Friday and on weekends, and from others swapping without myself or Malfoy knowing," she explained.

Hermione noticed a few guilty looks.

"Your partner is purely random, Malfoy and I haven't even swapped lists yet."

Her statement was followed by a few intrigued looks. It was only then Hermione realised that she had inadvertently admitted that she and Malfoy and not been cooperating when it came to Head duties. She felt her cheeks redden as she reminded herself of what level of _cooperation_ they had agreed to recently.

She heard the chair next to her scrape along the cold stone floor as Malfoy stood up. "That is to say, Granger and I agreed not to collude so that we purely rostered according to your preference rather than who we thought you might happen to get along better with," he directed with authority.

She turned to stare at him, incredulous that he has just qualified her statement in her favour.

Hermione quickly nodded in turn. "Yes, that's right," she said quickly.

"So we don't get excited about our new patrolling partners, we'll stick them up on the door at the end of the meeting," Malfoy let out, the sarcasm eliciting a few chuckles from his fellow housemates.

"Okay, next item of business. It seems that a bunch of fourth year students have taken to trying out their new spells on the younger students. Madame Pomfrey has asked us to pay extra attention at catching the culprits. I believe she has been rather busy lately."

She heard Malfoy stifle a laugh behind a cough. She was tempted to hex him herself.

The meeting continued with Hermione chairing, and Malfoy taking an unusual step back, letting her dictate the discussions. When the topic of helping the professors manage the raucous sixth years at the next Quidditch match came up, Ron abruptly stood up, looking at Hermione guiltily to remind her of his request. She nodded and he moved to leave the room.

"Where do you think you're going Weasley?" Malfoy suddenly cut in, standing up.

"It's fine; Ron has already run it by me that he has to leave early." Hermione turned and glared at Malfoy as she maintained her civil tone. He was in an antagonistic mood, she could tell.

"What about the rest of us who have committed to this meeting? He hasn't run it by _me,_" he goaded.

Hermione shut her eyes momentarily and took a breath. "Ron, you can go. Malfoy, we can discuss this later," she replied, trying not to grit her teeth.

"Not unless he tells everyone where he's going?" Malfoy stated matter-of-factly.

"Detention, Malfoy," Hermione bit out for his ears only. He grinned maliciously. She knew he would feed of this information.

"Weasley, who's your detention with?" he jibed.

Hermione looked at Ron apologetically as his ears reddened at the question. That was the tell tale sign of his short temper. "What's with the twenty questions? I've told Hermione. I think that should suffice, seeing as though she_ is_ the Head Girl." Ron retorted.

"I can't say I feel assured that she is acting in her capacity as Head girl, or just your chummy friend."

Malfoy was clearly being a prat.

The other prefects were clearly amused by the developments, watching the interaction closely.

"Rest _assured_ Malfoy, as _Head_ _Girl, _I have allowed it. Ron has explained his situation to me, and there is no need for further discussion," Hermione affirmed, her tone impatient. The prefects were amused by the exchange. She knew she was being particularly rude by not looking at Malfoy when addressing him. She nodded once again to Ron, who hesitated a moment, before leaving the room.

The room was overcome with silence.

"In that case, Granger, I have other more pressing matters to attend to, also," Malfoy sliced through the tense air with his biting resolution, strode across the room and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

That was a first.

Hermione stood, dumfounded and agape at the front of the room.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hermione looked out at the culprit. Lisa Turpin was smiling back at her sweetly, sitting cross-legged on one of the desks, looking her picture perfect, spiteful self. She could see Blaise trying to catch her gaze in her periphery. She stared straight ahead, her body beginning to heat up with rage.

The meeting ended with Hermione reassuring the prefects that she would owl them a copy of the roster.

* * *

"That was really unnecessary, Malfoy!" Hermione was yelling at the Head boy who was lying on a bean bag, his tie and robes on the floor, drinking from a bottle of what looked alcoholic.

After the abrupt end, she had remained in the classroom trying to cool off. It didn't work, her had blood boiled with rage as she teetered on the precipice of lashing out a few distructive spells in dissatisfaction. She'd collected her things and the parchments Malfoy had left behind, and walked out in a right state.

The door had slammed for the second time.

The Head boy brought the drink to his lips, his head tilting back as he took a swig. He remained in that position, with his face looking up at the ceiling, mute.

Hermione walked up to him and threw his stuff on the floor.

"You completely embarrassed me!" she continued, waiting for him to respond. "Oh, so the Head boy suddenly has nothing to say?" she lashed out. "I have good reason to hex you about now!"

The Head boy lazily tilted his head to look up at her, his eyes locked on hers as he brought the bottle to his lips again. Almost involuntarily, she reached out to grab it from his lips in frustration. He seemed to have sensed her movement, grabbing her wrist.

"Ah, ah, Granger," he chided, pulling her toward him with unfounded force. She lost her balance, falling into his lap, emitting an "oomf" as she hit his hard body. He had still managed to take a swig in the meantime.

"Let me up, Malfoy," she snapped, trying to lift herself up. It was difficult enough trying to remove oneself from a bean bag in any ordinary occasion. It was damn near impossible when there was a body between her _and_ the bean bag. He let go of her wrist and sunk himself deeper into the muggle contraption. She was forced to bring her hands to his chest as she fell against him.

She was practically lying on top of him and he still managed to take another swig of his drink.

"Malfoy, you're being ridiculous," she bit out. Hermione was trying to push herself up but that required wriggling about in his lap and pushing against his chest. The situation was growing more unsettling with each passing moment.

She could feel herself react.

Taking matters into her own hands she reached for the bottle. He eyed her carefully.

"I want a drink, Malfoy," she snapped. His smarmy grin returned and he obliged. She took the bottle and in two calculated moves, she fell against him completely, setting the bottle down behind his head and rolling them off the bean bag, onto the star studded carpet.

He was now on top of her, his face straight and unresponsive at their state of being.

At least they were off the beanbag.

"Granger, never _ever_ try to dismiss me again," he drawled, his voice low.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, "Never _ever _question my judgement as Head girl," she retaliated. They noses were practically touching. She could distinguish the flecks of grey in his eyes.

He broke out into a smirk, his cue to his next move as he rolled them over again, so that she was now on top.

"Please feel free to make a judgement call _here_, Granger," he grabbed at her hips, locking her in place. To gain some leverage, her legs straddled his torso as she tried to balance herself and lift herself off. She felt his lower anatomy react, her eyes widening in response.

"Let me go, Malfoy," she practically whispered, her body betraying her as unwanted thoughts of where this could lead overthrew her senses.

Almost instantly, his hands came away from her, once again forcing her to let her hands fall to his chest for balance, while he tucked his under his head. He was looking back at her with interest, an eyebrow raised.

Too stunned by his leniency, she remained unmoved.

* * *

A/N: Two part chappie - sorry guys ! xoxox


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Thanks for the bday wishes! It was a fun week and I'm a whole year older for it! LOL A quick chapter update for more fun times! Enjoy! hehehe  
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To handle one Draco Malfoy meant a conscious shift of strategic efforts. Hermione remained in her compromising position, staring down at him, contemplating her next move as he watched her carefully. He was testing her, and that meant his mind was clear of any potion side effects. She leant forward slightly, keeping her eyes on his.

"What's going on Malfoy?" she stated simply, her question loaded.

"From where I'm lying, everything seems to be going swimmingly," he replied freely, unabashed.

Hermione furrowed her brow at his terminology.

She leant forward further, testing his reaction, feathering her fingers across his chest. His breath hitched slightly, but his expression remained unaffected. If anything, her actions were having a more drastic effect on _her_ physical state.

If she continued, he would use it as leverage that _she_ wanted _him_.

There was something very disconcerting about his behaviour. The very fact that he was not driving this exchange was enough to set off warning bells. Hermione gave him one last inquisitive glance before lifting herself off him. She stood up, re-adjusting her skirt, acting as if there was nothing to it.

"It seems to me, Malfoy... that you've managed to find a way to handle your side effects. I guess that means our contract arrangements have been made redundant," she stated with finality, inadvertently suggesting that she had found a means to control _her_ side effects.

He sat up; combing his fingers through his hair to return some state of order to his tresses. "Let's not get into semantics, Granger. If I recall correctly, the terms were on an _as needed_ basis, and so, remain valid."

"Not from where I'm standing. Last time ...-" Hermione trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable about acknowledging her relations with the other guilty party. She walked over and picked up the abandoned bottle of drink and brought it to her lips as a means of distraction.

The liquid burnt as it coursed down her throat, setting off her sensitive tear ducts that instantly watered her eyes.

She blanched. "What the hell is this stuff?" Hermione yelped, coughing. The Head boy looked back at her, clearly amused.

He lifted his hands up in defence, "Hey, I didn't _make_ you drink it, or _dare_ you to for that matter," he drawled, standing up to face her.

"Must you remind me of my uncharacteristic moment of utter stupidity?" she replied pointedly, her blurred sight clearing.

"I would hardly call it _uncharacteristic_, unless sleeping with me was a rational decision," he retorted smartly. She glared at him, walking over to the fireplace. Hermione pulled out her wand and lit the fire, stretching out her bottle clasped hand threateningly near the unforgiving flame.

"Granger, you throw that into the fire, and you _will_ regret it," the Head boy took a step forward threateningly. "That's a 200 year old bottle of firewhiskey!" he practically thundered.

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Take it back Malfoy, or your precious drink will be vaporised."

"I can't take it back, Granger, I took your virginity, so fucking accept it!" he retaliated.

She winced.

"You know very well that is not what I meant!" Those tear ducts were threatening their release once again. He was relentless!

His eyes narrowed in such a way, she almost anticipated his malicious come back. "Get over it, Granger. I have."

Hermione's breath caught as she felt the invisible blow to her gut, and she was suddenly overcome with a nefarious desire to hurt him for his words.

"Well, I guess I have too, then. Just ask Blaise." And with that, Hermione threw the bottle into the fire, an eruption of violet flames consuming the hearth. She looked back at the Head boy with complete satisfaction, her pulse hammering against her skin as the strong vapours of the matured drink filled the room, attacking her nostrils.

His fists were clenched, his jaw locked; his eyes dead set and dark, housing an almost unseemly fury that caused her to step back involuntarily.

"Get. Out," his words were barely audible as his teeth gritted with restraint. Hermione was frozen in place, her heart about to leap from her throat.

"Granger, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!" he roared.

Never before had he reacted to her in this way. Hermione leapt into action, bolting toward the portrait hole and fleeing from the head digs without looking back.

* * *

Hermione was reduced to tears as she sat, knees to chest on the floor of the astronomy tower, ignoring the crisp air drying her salty tears against her skin. The adrenaline pumping through her had been so great; Hermione had not stopped running until she had distanced herself enough to let her emotions run wild.

She did not know why she had resorted to such passive aggressive tactics. Then again, it was _only_ firewhiskey. Malfoy had reacted like his life depended on that bottle of drink. It was replaceable; at a price, but replaceable nonetheless.

This was more than she could say for what he had taken from her.

One thing was clear; Malfoy was not devoid from the side effects all together. Whatever control he had managed, her behaviour had unleased an emotional reaction in him like no other she had exhibited under the influence of the potion. And it was no longer one of irrational desire. She saw a wrath in his eyes that hinted at physical harm.

Hermione needed to forget.

She wiped her face with her hands quickly and sat up, inhaling the frosty air before standing and making her way down the spiral staircase, carefully.

* * *

The fourth floor classroom light was on. Hermione gave a disparaging sigh before she pressed her hand to the door handle and entered quietly, spotting the _other_ Slytherin at his backyard potions lab. She coughed lightly to bring her presence to his attention.

Blaise looked up at her, smiling, then frowning. "Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked, putting his instruments down and walking around the table.

"I am now," she replied cautiously. She didn't know why she had said that: a poor, calculated attempt at flirting, perhaps. He put his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight as he looked back at her with curiosity.

"You look like you've been crying," he replied. Clearly, she had a lot of work to do in the department of innuendo.

Hermione looked away, "I'm fine," she let out quietly. "How are you going here?" she was trying to steer away from the current focus.

Blaise shrugged, "So far, so good," he offered lightly, his interest clearly diverted to her state of being. She realised her hair must have looked a right mess.

"Uhm, need any help?"

He shook his head, "nothing more we can do tonight."

Hermione nodded in understanding, trying to inconspicuously tuck her loose strands behind her ears. "Well, I thought I should see how you were going," she shrugged, turning her back to him and walking to the door. She pressed down on the door handle.

"Hermione, wait," the Slytherin stepped toward her. She remained standing with her back to him. "Malfoy was just being a prat in the meeting today; it's nothing to be upset about. Don't let him get to you," he tried to reassure.

Hermione sighed with resignation, letting her forehead rest against the door, but remained silent. If only it were that simple.

Perhaps it was time to come clean. Hermione slowly turned around, her shoes suddenly piquing her interest in all attempts to avoid his eyes.

"Malfoy and I slept together," she suddenly blurt out, her eyes still downcast.

The most unnerving silence she had ever encountered consumed the space. At least, on her part, she could hear violin strings snap at the melodrama of it all as she reminded herself of what she had just told a _Slytherin_, the best friend, at that. It was unbearable. Hermione finally forged herself look up at Blaise, trying to hide her discomfort at the situation.

His lips were pressed tight; he was either trying to come to terms with the _news_ or struggling with something else entirely.

Hermione wished she could apparate.

"I know," he finally let out, his face absent of any expressed emotion.

What?

Hermione's lips parted in surprise as she let out as small, "oh," her part in this whole farce becoming even more complicated. She was being played by them all. "Then why didn't you say anything? I mean...ugh...not even yesterday?"

She could see his mind reeling behind those dark sapphire eyes.

"I did, in so many words. You just didn't pick up on it." He pulled his hands from his pockets and turned to shuffling things within his reach, clearly uneased by the direction of the discussion. Hermione's mind swam through the pool that housed every interaction with him, including the one in his bedroom prior to their intimate exchange.

She stopped mid lap. Blaise had referred to the "connection" she and Malfoy shared.

"He's already told you, hasn't he?" she asked carefully, realisation dawning on her as to why Malfoy had almost blown his top. He had told Blaise, and in turn, she had told Malfoy about her and Blaise, in her own way.

Only now, Blaise was unaware that Malfoy probably knew. She shut her eyes in an attempt to clear her mind.

"I guessed. He affirmed it. He's not exactly boasting about it in the Slytherin common room," Blaise admitted. She opened eyes, catching his weary smile.

Of course, the Head boy had a reputation to protect.

"Then why did you still want to...you know?" she directed, clearly confused as to why Blaise wasn't the least bit deterred by her having been with Malfoy.

"Come _on_, Hermione, you _know_ I like you." He spoke like he was stating the obvious. "It's not real with you and Malfoy..." he was momentarily lost in thought before catching her gaze once again. "Is it?"

Hermione could only answer with a question, "How can it be?"

Blaise regarded her silently. She found his contemplative state annoying, just wishing they would get on with something to rid her mind of unwanted thoughts.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she suddenly asked, her voice slightly pitched to evidence her displeasure at the current situation.

He shrugged. "You gave an interesting response, is all," he commented lightly. "One would think you'd say 'no' in disgust, but you seem to have a dependence on his views on the matter."

What? "Blaise, I don't know what you're on about; anyone in their right mind would not doubt for a second that Malfoy and I are like chalk and cheese. This whole - whatever you want to call it...it's all because I got caught up in a whole load of bollocks."

She practically shouted the last part.

Blaise stared back at her, visibly stunned by her vocals. Hermione pulled her hair tie out, seeking an outlet of distraction from her flustered state and the pending tears threatening to unleash themselves like waterfalls. She shook her hair about and began to pull it back to re-tie it while staring at the wall, blinking incessantly. She was an emotional train wreck, steaming with emotions and she needed an outlet.

Blaise.

Her hair in place once again, an element of control regained, she looked back at him with determination. "I can't go back to my dorm room," she said flatly, but with underlying purpose.

The Slytherin took it as his cue to smile cheekily. "And what do you propose to do about it?" he tested.

Hermione gave him a silent look, and turned to walk out of the classroom, ignoring his questions of where she was going. As expected, he followed, catching her in the hallway, right next to her sanctuary.

* * *

"Hermione, stop. What's this all about?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion. She turned to him.

"What if I told you there is another room in this part of the corridor?" she suddenly asked, ignoring his puzzled expression.

"I'd say you must be seeing things. There are no other rooms along here."

Hermione raised a brow and proceeded to walk toward the entry to her safe haven.

She was standing outside the door.

"What about now?" she queried, knowing full well he would be even more baffled by her behaviour. He returned her question with a blank stare, shaking his head as if to say she was out of her mind.

Hermione smiled, and turned to face the door, pushing down the handle and letting it open. She stepped in and moved to face the Slytherin once more.

"You sure?" she gave him her most patronising voice. His jaw dropped, his eyes almost fell out of their sockets as he stared, bug-eyed, at the now very visible room.

"What the – "

"One can never be _too_ certain of what lies behind these walls, Blaise," she announced, stepping aside and gesturing him to come in. He looked back at her, and gave her a lop-sided grin laced with submission before acquiescing to her invite.

"Wow, how long have you known about this place?" he said, walking over to her desk, running his hands over the velvet armchair as he scanned the room. Hermione shut the door quietly.

"A while actually," she walked over and lit the fire.

"Does anyone else know about it?"

Hermione tensed. "No."

He seemed to like her response and sat down in the chair, leaning back in much the same way as a certain _other_ Slytherin. Hermione ignored the comparison her brain drew. He seemed to be asking her something but she failed to register.

"Hmm? sorry, what did you say?" she refocused her gaze on him,

"Do you mind if I check the potions ingredients you have?" he asked with added emphasis, signalling at her potions set-up in the far corner. She had barley used it.

"Sure," she shrugged. He stood up and walked over, making a note to brush past her rather than move around the obstacles in his way. He caught her hand as he did so, pulling her along with him to the small ingredients cupboard.

She smiled at the gesture, taking it as his attempt to make peace for his earlier remarks. They walked over together. He let go of her hand and began to scan the items, she let eyes fall over his hair, his broad shoulders emphasised by the pull of his jumper across his back.

"You know, we could make use of a couple of things in here," Blaise interrupted her state of fantasy.

"Really? Err, that's great. Take whatever you think you need," she waived. He straightened up, and turned to her. She was suddenly aware of their close proximity as she felt his breath graze her cheek.

Hermione considered moving to place a more respectable distance between them, but he brought his hands up to cup her face before she could decide. A shiver of anticipation rushed through her.

"Perfect," he murmured, before his lips brushed over hers, in the slightest of kisses. Her eyelids fell at the contact, the unsatisfied need that Malfoy had stirred in her caressed by another Slytherin's lips.

It wasn't enough.

She brought her hand up and into his hair and pulled him in desperately, her lips attacking his without concern as she opened her mouth to signal her intentions, letting her tongue slip into his as he yielded to her initiation.

It was hot and heavy, and she was leading him back against the wall, pushing herself flush against him as his back hit the stone.

Now he was reacting, as he took control of the kiss and invaded her mouth, his tongue circling hers with purposeful strokes. Hermione felt his hands slide down her torso, grazing over her skirt clad bottom before coming to rest at her hips. His grip was firm and she let her hips roll into him, signalling her need. He groaned against her lips.

"Too...many...clothes," she breathed, as he his kisses became long and slow, sucking at her bottom lip, his tongue flicking to tease her mouth with its warmth.

She felt his lips smile against hers as he brought his hands up and began to pull at her jumper, she followed suit. They broke apart to give each other just enough time to remove the offending articles and toss them to the floor, the skin closer to contact as she felt his body heat through his shirt.

His mouth trailed down to her neck, she exhaled with delight, her fingers trembling restlessly as she hastily moved to unbutton his shirt. Hermione whimpered as his tongue worked over her pulse point, the pressure of his mouth causing her to almost lose sight of her goal.

She wanted Blaise Zabini. Naked.

His hands came into contact with her bare skin as they slid under her shirt and up to her breasts. He was teasing her, testing her limits as she struggled to get his shirt open, where she wanted it. Finally, her hands rested against his solid chest, her nails gently scraping down to his navel as he caught her off guard with a particularly wicked tease to her earlobe.

Hermione pulled back, her chest heaving. He watched her silently as she lifted her shirt up and off, and undid her bra. His eyes drifted downward, but she didn't pay attention, she was too busy pulling his tie off, then his shirt, so they were both half naked.

His tanned skin was a striking contrast to the Head boy's, but she took in his heavier build with hungry eyes. She looked up at the Slytherin's heated gaze, chancing an attempt at a seductive smile.

It was the natural progression of things: being in control, leading like the Head girl should.

He reached in and caught her lips in a searing kiss, his hands kneading her breasts eagerly, tweaking her peaks with his fingers, feeding the building tension below.

Hermione's hands travelled to the Slytherin's belt, unfastening the offending hooks and zip in record time as she tugged at his trousers, pulling them down. She stood back for him to kick them off, and took the opportunity to pull off her panties from underneath her skirt. She almost thought she heard a guttural growl escape his lips as he caught her gaze, her panties in her hand.

She tossed them aside, a small smirk gracing her lips as he pulled her in again. She kissed his lips again, then moved to trail her mouth across his jaw, down his neck. She moved in closer, letting her tongue run over his earlobe and suck gently, like he had done to her. His grip on her waist tightened as he leant further into the wall, sighing.

Hermione continued her ministrations down his chest.

"The chair," he murmured.

"Hmmm?" she was too busy making her way down to his navel, before testing what his reaction might be if she let her tongue sweep into it. He moaned aloud, she smiled against him, a slight boost to her confidence emerging. She gave him a long drawn out, open kiss just above the waistband of his boxers, as her hand brushed over his obvious arousal.

"Hermione," he moaned.

She pulled back at the call of her name. Malfoy had never said her anything during their throes of passion, or whatever it could be called, other than the occassional grunt and moan. She stumbled slightly, abashed as his vocals served to re-affirm that she was actually in the middle of having it off with Blaise Zabini.

"You okay?" she heard him ask as she had sat back on her legs in her kneeled position, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, I...err...just didn't expect that," she muttered.

"Expect what?" he asked, his unsure tone apparent.

Hermione looked up at him, and shook her head. Her core throbbed with unfulfilled release, a sign that this was not the time for articulating her inexperience.

She smiled back at him and stood up, leaning into him once again. He seemed to accept her response as he came off the wall, his full height now apparent. She craved the feel of skin on skin, bringing her arms around his neck as his mouth captured her lips.

Hermione suddenly felt his hands crawl over her skirt. In one swift move he gripped the underside of her thighs, lifting her up and opening her legs so that she was forced to wrap them around his torso for support. She was certain he could feel the warmth and wetness of her core as she locked herself in place.

He walked them over to the armchair and sat down, the velvet material against their skin a luxurious addition. Hermione was straddling him on top, perfectly positioned over his arousal. She ground into him, desperate for some friction. Blaise's hands came under her skirt, caressing her, moaning at her state of readiness. She let her hand crawl underneath as well, deeper again behind the material of his boxers. She pulled his arousal out, stroking it gently, relishing the feel of what she couldn't see.

"Guide it in," he muttered between kisses to her chest.

She hesitated at his direction, unsure of herself and the pressure of her grip. His hands wrapped around her hips and he lifted her slightly.

"It won't break," he chuckled at her obvious trepidation.

Hermione positioned him at her entrance before gently coming down over him.

They both groaned as he filled her, the Slytherin's head falling back against the head of the armchair, his grip on her tightening.

"Sit up on your knees a little, then come back down," he drew out heavily, guiding her movements in this new position.

The sensation was overwhelming as she felt him slide completely into her as she came down onto him.

"Good, keep going," he managed, his voice raspy with need, relaxing his hold on her.

Realising she had control of the pace, Hermione slowly lift herself up, and just as slowly came down, feeling every single nerve ending within her spark up with life. He seemed to hit a particularly sensitive spot in this position and she almost gasped as he pulled her down with a little more force the second time round.

Falling into the rhythm that made them both pant blissfully, she continued to move against him, rolling gently on her way down as she discovered the friction on her bundle of nerves was enough to forget everything and focus on the sensations they created.

Their movements continued, shielded by the pleated Gryffindor skirt, concealing the forbidden activities of the duo.

Not because they were Slytherin and Gryffindor.

It was because the Gryffindor was fraternising with the best friend of one Head boy.

The Head boy she had slept with, the one who had taken her first.

It was messed up.

But, she had complete control of it.

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A/N: Lemme know if you expected that! Is Hermione as in control as she thinks she is? Is blaise just an opportunist? Is Malfoy somewhat psychotic? Hmmm xxx


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Finally, I have updated! Sorry for leaving you up in the air for a while. Lots going on, but I committed myself to get this update out to you before my exams at the end of this month. Enjoy! Hope I haven't deterred readers from the wait! :p**

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No matter how hard she tried, Hermione could not ignore the festering guilt that travelled with her like a permanent shadow. What had happened with her and Blaise was, well, extreme. She tried to excuse it by reassuring herself that it was Malfoy's fault. He had inadvertently led her into the arms of the comforting Blaise. But, even that was a ridiculous notion. Sex never solved anything! Now, her troubles were compounded tenfold.

All she could think about was that she had deceived Malfoy.

Now that was a revelation in itself.

She sat in the library, not studying, but hiding, like she had done for the past few days. _He_ was the voice of her subconscious, "Granger, you're just like the rest of them. Easy." She could hear Malfoy scolding her, as her overactive mind dwelled on the events of the night in her fourth floor hideaway.

How could she let herself get carried away like that? Was she that desperate that her body betrayed her the minute the possibility of sex was the table? She had resisted Malfoy's toying, and then proceeded to end up in the arms of the 'nice' Slytherin. Clearly, something was wrong with this picture.

Had Blaise taken advantage of her emotional state, or had she taken advantage of him being there as a means of releasing her inner turmoil? He certainly didn't stop her. Then again, he had already told her, in more than one way, that he wanted her.

"I thought I might find you here." Hermione almost jumped out of her seat as the familiar voice broke her internal quarrel.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. He sat down opposite her and gave her a small smile. She had hardly spoken to him since his confrontation with Malfoy.

"So, any reason why the Heard Girl has become a recluse while the recently dubbed, Mad Malfoy, is wreaking havoc and using every bloody school rule there is to deduct house points? He's been handing out detentions like a crazed professor. He saw Ginny and I exchange a kiss in the hallway and gave _her _the detention. Not me? What the hell is _that_ about?" he queried, leaning forward and watching her with those intense eyes.

She almost flinched, afraid he was about to perform _occlumency_.

"I've had a lot on." It wasn't a lie.

"That doesn't mean you have to avoid your friends. You've always got a lot on," Harry challenged.

"Yes, well, it's been a particularly testing week," she's stated, trying to put an end to the conversation.

"That whole Malfoy thing isn't still going on, is it?" he asked tentatively. She still hadn't forgiven him for his judgemental remarks.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she replied tersely, trying to keep her anger in check. "You're the one who passed judgement. There is no Malfoy _thing._"

_Not anymore. _

Harry was silent. He slumped back into his chair with resignation. "Do you think you might want to join us for a round of butterbeer after dinner? It would be nice to have you around the Gryffindor common room now and then."

"I might do." It was all the commitment she could manage. "I need to meet with Professor McGonagall after dinner. If I come, it will be after that."

Harry nodded once, understanding her resistance. He stood up. "I hope you do," he said, as he pushed the chair in. "I really miss my friend." And with that, he walked off, leaving behind one stunned Head Girl.

_Could the guilt get any worse?_

_

* * *

_

The fat lady was in an irate mood when Hermione approached. "Password," she bit out.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _You'd think being Head girl of Hogwarts would earn you browning points with the portraits. _"Mandrake."

"Very well," was the reply, as the portrait swung aside. Hermione climbed through, the familiar smell striking a sense of comfort, as the noise from the common room drowned away her hesitations.

She spotted Ron and Harry lazing about on the couches near the fireplace. Harry had his back to her. Ron was laughing about something, as he caught her eye.

"Hermione!" he yelled out, waving her over. Harry turned around abruptly, his eyes locking with hers. He smiled, running a hand through his messy hair in relief.

She walked over and sat down next to Harry. "What are you two laughing about?" she asked.

"Ron's love life," Harry offered, smiling.

"Very funny, Harry. I was actually laughing about Lisa Turpin. Malfoy really gave it to her in the hallway yesterday. Can you believe it? Lisa Turpin! The hottest girl in the school, and Malfoy just squashed her like a bug. He's finally gone barmy. Always knew he was. Bloody hilarious!" Ron shook his head in amused disbelief.

"You'd probably be pleased to hear about that, Hermione. After the way Lisa spoke to you in the prefects meeting the other day. She's got a sharp tongue that one. Like to get near it myself..." Ron's voice trailed.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Harry shot her a quizzical look. "What? It _is_ funny," she defended. She kind of liked the idea of Lisa being shut down.

"Course it is!" Ron re-affirmed. "Come on, Harry, get us a drink will you?" Ron kicked Harry in the shin.

"Alright, no need to get violent." He kicked Ron back. Hermione laughed, pushing Harry in the arm to get him off the couch.

"Hey! No need to gang up on me! I'm going!" Harry said between laughs, standing up.

It was the first time in a while that Hermione forgot about everything and just enjoyed the company of her two long time friends.

* * *

Walking back to the Head digs was much less daunting after a few butterbeers, despite the tumultuous state of affairs associated with it. She'd seen Malfoy in class, but they hadn't exchanged a word since her bottle smashing, and his violent outburst.

Hermione turned the corner and froze, just short of the knight's portrait.

"Isn't it a bit late to be wandering the hallways?" she asked lightly, trying to hide her surprise.

Blaise Zabini pushed of the wall. "Well, hello to you too, Hermione," he smiled. "Malfoy's turned in early, so I thought I might wait for you."

"Why?" She obviously didn't think before she'd spoken - he and Malfoy were hardly on the best of terms.

He walked over to her, leaning in and giving her a peck on the cheek. "Thought we might have some fun," he replied suggestively.

_Was this a bootie call?_

"I was thinking of turning in myself," Hermione shied away from him, walking toward the portrait. The knight lifted his visor, eyeing the Slytherin behind her with narrowed eyes.

"I'm afraid I can't let you in, Miss," he asked.

Hermione frowned, puzzled by the knight's statement. "Pardon me? You know I have a right of entry? I'm the Head Girl!" she defended.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I don't know what it is, but your magic is no longer recognised as belonging to the Head Girl," the knight replied calmly. _What? _Hermione was in a state of panic.

Hermione shook her head. "That can't be, I was just in there a few hours ago!" She had forgotten all about the Slytherin behind her.

"Have you gone barmy?" Blaise sneered at the knight.

"I only respond to the Head Girl, young man," the knight stated, unimpressed.

"Hermione Granger _is_ the Head girl!" he yelled back.

The knight shrugged. "Best to take it up with the Headmaster. I'm under strict orders." With that, he dropped his visor and walked out of the frame.

Silence ensued. She could see that Blaise was completely confused and exasperated.

"This can't be happening," Hermione murmured, leaning against the wall, trying to compose herself. He heart was about to jump out of her throat. There was only one explanation for this.

The contract.

"Hermione, I'll go find a professor. Clearly, the knight has lost the plot!" he tried to reassure. She had crouched down against the wall now, her head in her lap. She felt Blaise's hand on her shoulder.

"C'mon Hermione, why are you acting like there's nothing you can do?"

"Because I've brought this on myself!" she almost yelled in frustration. She stood up, moving away from the Slytherin. How was she going to explain herself now?

"It's over," she repeated again with resignation. "I'll go sleep in the Gryffindor tower."

"Wait! I know it's late, but there will be a professor doing the rounds at this time."

"Blaise, I appreciate your effort, but there is nothing you can do. And I mean, _nothing_!" her voice rose unintentionally. She tried to control her temper, not wishing to take it out on Blaise. He was ignorant of just how messed up things were, and the extent of her bindings with Malfoy. Not to mention, his involvement in her involuntary resignation from her Head status.

The portrait door suddenly swung open.

Hermione turned her head, an intake of breath signalling her gasp. To see Malfoy, standing in his boxers, hair dishevelled, looking mighty irate, stirred too many emotions. She was not ready for a confrontation.

"What's all the racket? I'm trying to fucking sleep!" Well, at least he'd broken his silent treatment. He spotted Hermione. He seemed to momentarily react to her defeated state.

"Granger, what the fuck are you doing out here, it's - " Malfoy froze, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Blaise. "Oh, I see. Didn't realise you were entertaining a _visitor,_ Granger," he spat.

Hermione was lost for words. _Could matters decline any further? _

"Cat got your tongue, Granger?" he scowled. "As for you Zabini, you're a fucking snake."

"Leave him out of this, Malfoy." Hermione snapped abruptly. This was getting out of hand.

The Head Boy stared at her, agape, before responding cruelly. "Granger, did you lose your head along with your virginity?"

Blaise leaped forward with his arm raised. Hermione stepped in between them in time, holding her hands up to stop him.

"Don't...," she ground out. She had lost a lot more than that.

"Hermione, I'm not going to stand around and listen to Draco insult you."

"Blaise, it's not going to help," she asserted. "Just...let me speak." He reluctantly stepped back.

"Watch who you call a _snake_, Malfoy. If my memory serves me correctly, doesn't the Slytherin Prince hold that title?" he sneered. Hermione pushed against him to increase the distance between the two.

"The dungeons are calling, Zabini. I suggest you make your way down there, before I force you," the Head Boy threatened.

"Shut the fuck up! Both of you!" Hermione practically screeched. Her state of unparalleled distress was apparent to both.

They were muted by her outburst.

She turned to face the Head Boy. "Malfoy, I can't come in unless you invite me." It sounded like a whisper, drowned out by the sound of her beating heart.

More silence.

"Granger, what the fuck are you –"

"Malfoy, I _need_ you to _invite_ me in," she replied more firmly, and calmly. Her eyes fixed on his urgently.

"Is this some kind of joke? Invite _yourself_ in!" he thundered. Hermione shut her eyes. If a professor turned up to witness this scene, it would definitely all be over.

"Draco, you git, take a hint. Invite her in!" Blaise yelled out.

"Fine, get inside, Granger. You're barking mad! Zabini, get lost." He turned and walked out of sight.

Hermione exhaled in relief and turned to Blaise, "Hermione, I think I should stay with you. Malfoy's all fired up and crazy. He might do something irrational. What if the potion has been triggered?" he reasoned.

"I can't invite you in, Blaise. I have no rights at the moment. It's probably best you don't anyway," she reasoned.

His hand came up behind his neck, rubbing it in frustration. "Fine. But be careful," he urged finally.

Hermione nodded in return and walked into the portrait hole without saying another word. It shut ominously behind her. After all this time, after all her efforts as Head Girl. she had been reduced to being a mere guest in the Head commons. Malfoy's, at that.

* * *

He was nowhere to be seen. The common room was empty._ Well, clearly he is not interested in a chat,_ she mused.

She was about to grab hold of a beanbag when her eyes fell on her bedroom door. It was wide open, and the light was on. The errant sound of her things being disturbed signalled his intrusion into her personal space. She rushed over and stood in the doorway in disbelief.

"What do you think you're doing, and how on _earth _did you manage to get in here?" she bit out, watching Malfoy shuffle through papers and books on her desk. It was like watching someone rip the pages out of her favourite book!

He ignored her demands. She stepped into her room, noticing the absence of a charge of ownership. "Malfoy, can you stop that!" It was bad enough the room, which house her belongings, no longer recognised it as belonging to her.

She shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as she realised that she had been staring at his bare back.

"Where is it, Granger?" Malfoy said abruptly. She opened her eyes to see him now facing her. His accusatory expression was only hinting at what he was thinking.

"You win, Malfoy." Her hands came up to gesture her surrender, her expression finite. It was over.

Silence enveloped. She expected a snarky remark signalling his satisfaction. He remained unmoved. He face fell, baffled.

"You and I both know that contract was a dud, Granger."

Hermione could not help her look of surprise. "What makes you say that?" she questioned. After all, it had taken her a lot longer to work that out.

"We both abused it intentionally," he shrugged. His detached response was even more insulting that his angry threats.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Which part?" she spat. "How does that explain the knight refusing me entry, or the fact that _my_ room no longer recognises me as the Head Girl?"

"Where's the contract, Granger?" He was avoiding her questions.

"Malfoy - "

"The _fucking_ contract, Granger," he barked. "You know, it might help if we looked at the damned thing." He crossed his arms. It only served to define his bare form. Hermione had to look away. How on earth was he managing in her presence when she was acting like a crazed _banshee_?

Hermione sat on the bed and leant forward, with her palms covering her face. She was exhausted. The calming effect of the butterbeer was well and truly over. Really, she was drained from it _all_. She groaned into her hands.

She felt the bed sink next to her, causing her to stiffen. His close proximity rendered her senses irrefutably helpless. Her emotional exhaustion, and defeated state of mind, had triggered the potion's side effects.

The irony was in the timing. She could feel the lust mounting.

It was time to be frank.

"Malfoy, I _need_ you...to leave." Her voice was barely audible behind her sweaty palms.

"No. You owe me one contract. Or, have you forgotten that I _invited_ you in?"

Her heart stopped. She was almost in pain. "I c-can't. Not now," she stammered. Her body was on fire.

This was way more than an exchange of bloody favours.

She stood up, struggling with her bearings. The contract had been disillusioned between the pages of _Bloodthirsty Concoctions: the calamities of the live potion, _which was sitting in the top draw of her desk. She steered carefully toward it, trying to hide her affected state. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her as she leant against the desk and opened the draw, pulling out the library book.

The letters of the title jumped out of her, causing her head to spin. Again, she ignored it and reached for her wand. It was a simple matter of a single spell and Malfoy would be satisfied. She looked back at him briefly with her wand in hand, and then down at the open book. Her pulse hammered. Her muscles were shaking.

She whispered the incantation.

Everything after that was a mystery.

* * *

Something was definitely off.

Hermione Granger could feel the inertia of movement, yet she was lying limp in what seemed like...the arms of a person. Yet to open her eyes, fogginess engulfed her as she could distantly detect the sound of voices. She strained to recognise the owners as she came to her senses.

She could feel the impact of the person's feet as they hit the hard ground, reverberating through her body.

_What happened?_ Her eyes were rapidly moving behind her heavy eyelids, trying to discern her most recent memory.

Her body ached, it almost felt like she had just had a million needles prodded into her, stimulating every nerve ending and then relaxing them to the point of feigned paralysis. She recalled reading somewhere that if you could move your fingers and toes, nothing was physically wrong. _How ironic. _She could remember _that_, but not what had happened what seemed like five minutes ago!

It was a good thing that she could feel her fingers curl as she moved them slightly. The effort was exhausting, however. She felt like a dead weight.

"...we should've taken her sooner." Her returning clarity was slight, but she could just make out snippets of the conversation and the rising vocals.

"...wasn't thinking clearly!" Tempers were rising.

"...blaming me is not going to get us out of this, Malfoy." There it was; her answer. The owner of the voice carrying her.

The question was, where were they taking her?

"We'll just tell her that she fainted." She could hear the deep voice resonate through Blaise's chest.

_Tell who?_

"Why'd you come back to the Head dorms?" She could feel Blaise's hold on her tighten slightly. At least her nerve endings were functioning.

"You're lucky I did," Blaise retorted bluntly. The air was so thick with tension between the two; she wondered how they even managed to walk side by side without hexing each other.

"Why do I get the impression that you weren't coming to see me?" Malfoy's sarcasm was laced with derision. Even his tone of voice hinted at his utter distaste over the situation.

And then it dawned on her. The contract; that was the last thing she was doing, removing it from its hiding place.

They turned a corner and seemed to be approaching their destination, as she felt Blaise slow down. Malfoy seemed to speed up ahead. She heard doors open, and yet, her eyelids would not budge to allow her to see.

Something was _definitely _off.

"Madam Pomfrey, there's been an incident..." That was the last thing Hermione heard before she lost consciousness once more.

* * *

A/N: Update in first week of June! I promise. xoxo


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Okay, exams are over, work is a bore, and I have plenty of time to write! An update for you. I know I said first week of June, but it was a very testing chapter...lots of revelations and hints of things to come. Look forward to your thoughts! Enjoy! x  
**

* * *

She could feel a hand on her shoulder, and a gentle shake. "Granger?" the voice whispered, somewhat urgently.

Hermione stirred. She was wrapped tight in something rather heavy which weighed down on her, making it difficult to shift. Exhaling, she focused on her comfortable state of being, her relaxed state bringing a small smile of satisfaction to her face.

She heard her name again. "Granger!" the voice hissed.

She emitted a small groan, feeling rather irate that her wonderful sleep had been disturbed. She opened her eyes and turned to the intruder.

The room was dark, but there was no mistaking that hair.

"Malfoy?" she whispered, incredulous.

He was hovering over her, and she could just make out his features as the moonlight slithered through the window behind her. His stormy grey eyes widened with what looked like relief as she spoke his name.

Disoriented, Hermione looked about the room, noticing that she was in the Infirmary. "What...what happened?" she asked hoarsely. Her throat was coarse and she felt like she hadn't spoken for days.

"You fainted." He replied blankly, falling heavily into the chair next to her bed. "Two days ago."

_What?_

"Wh- what?" she asked in disbelief, her voice stronger, her expression shadowed with confusion. Malfoy's face remained inscrutable as he watched her reaction carefully. He looked tired.

"You don't remember?" he asked.

Her brow furrowed, trying to comprehend the fact that she had just lost two days of her life. Her recollection of anything was hazy; she felt muddled, disengaged. She looked down at her wrapped state.

"What am I covered in?"

"It's old magic, used before healing charms."

"Why do I need old magic?" She was utterly confused and too groggy to try to make sense of it. It was strange enough that she was speaking to Malfoy in the cool isolation of the moonlit Infirmary.

He remained silent.

Hermione was too tired to press him, let alone remember her question. "Why am I here?" Her mind really was scattered. Hadn't she already asked him that?

"You fainted." She was too out of it to notice the hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, right. You said that," she muttered.

She could feel herself drifting off again, a dead weight consuming her body while her nerve endings pinched in the most...sleep inducing way.

"Why are you here?" she looked up at him through her lashes. Her lids were beginning to droop.

She was fighting it.

More silence. "Blaise sent me."

"Oh." She was not going to last.

"Granger, don't -"

Hermione didn't give herself a chance to consider his statement. Sleep consumed her while the fact that she had just had the most civil conversation, ever, with the Head boy completely escaped her overwhelmed state.

* * *

Signs of rustling stirred Hermione's consciousness. She was breaking out of her deep sleep, her mind acknowledging the world around her once again as the murmur of a soothing voice began to register.

"...can you hear me?"

Hermione mumbled her acquiescence as she opened her eyes to a smiling Madam Pomfrey.

"Hermione, dear, how are you feeling?"

Taking a moment to consider her current state, she did feel remarkably, well...fine, aside from the drowsiness. But really, she couldn't recall what she felt like before. She looked about the room; no one else was present. It was early morning. Hermione brought her hands out from under the covers, rubbing her eyes gently before looking back at Madam Pomfrey, who eyed her patiently.

"Uh...Ok, I suppose. Although...I'm not really sure what happened." Hermione reflected openly.

"Well, you've definitely tested my abilities these past few days," the healer replied, pursing her lips into a tight smile. "I need you to drink this now that you're awake." She nodded toward the cup in her hand.

Hermione sat up slowly, taking the cup. Her olfactory was flooded with the smell of a coppery, smoky, odour of the rather unsavoury looking liquid as she brought it to her lips. She cringed as it slid down her throat, the bitter taste causing her eyes to clench.

She drank it quickly, desperately seeking the last drop marking the end of the foul tasting substance.

Her skin tingled instantly, a warm surge of vitality coursing through her body. Madam Pomfrey took the cup and sat down, her expression austere and rather disconcerting.

"Hermione, it is a very lucky thing that Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini brought you in when they did. You have suffered a very rare form of magical poisoning."

Well, it didn't take a healer to know that! It explained nothing, but Hermione remained silent. "Professor Snape has been working diligently these past few nights trying to brew this," she held up the empty cup, "so that you are in the best possible state not to suffer permanent damage. He was very worried."

_What did she mean by permanent?_ Wait_, did she just say Professor Snape was worried?_ A questioning gaze followed the healer's form as she stood up and walked to the edge of the bed.

"You realise, Miss Granger that your magical charge was so faint, it had almost extinguished!"

Hermione's eyes had never been so wide. "You mean...I- I almost lost my ability to do magic?" she asked wearily.

Madame Pomfrey nodded gravely. "You're very lucky, dear. Now, I need to keep a close eye on you for the next day or so. You've been in and out of consciousness for a good few days. You're body has been heavily burdened. It knocked you right out."

Hermione gulped at the confirmation of her fears.

"Hermione, despite our ability to diagnose what happened to you; our conjectures about how it came about remain just that. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini offered very little information about the state they found you in. I can't imagine that you are on the best of terms with those young men. They are rather...troublesome," she explained.

_Well, that was an understatement!_

"I did not press them about you, given the urgency to determine what was wrong with you. Professor Snape did speak with the boys later; I don't know the extent of what was discussed, but it certainly afforded the Professor with some guidance." She paused, looking over at Hermione.

"The Headmaster gave me strict orders not to allow any visitors. But, some have been rather insistent."

"Who exactly visited?" Hermione asked quietly. Madam Pomfrey seemed to be battling with just how much to say at this point in time, her healer instincts perhaps hindering her openness.

"I believe Mr. Malfoy was here a few times," she stated, finally answering Hermione's question. "Allowances were made for the Head Boy," she qualified, but it did little to hide Madam Pomfrey's inquiring look as to why Malfoy would _want _to visit.

With that she began walking away, leaving Hermione with her thoughts. "Professor Snape will be in later to speak with you," Madam Pomfrey announced before slipping into her office. The shutting doors signalled her isolation.

So, she hadn't dreamt that Malfoy had come to see her. She could vaguely remember their conversation. Her mind formulated a thousand questions and answers, all speculative and frustrating. She leant back against the pillows, sighing.

* * *

Professor Snape did indeed come to visit that afternoon.

He was never one for frivolous greetings, but he certainly knew how to make an entrance as he stormed through the double doors with his robes billowing behind him.

Hermione sat up in surprise.

"Verus Civitas." He stood hovering at the end of her bed, his eyes piercing hers. "Have you heard of this term before, Miss Granger?" he drawled.

"It sounds Latin," she offered.

"True. State," he articulated slowly, pausing between each word. "Anyone who might know of it usually has a penchant for the Dark Arts, or is exceptionally well versed on its history. I would not expect you or anyone else in this school, for that matter, to be familiar with it.

"The problem is, that when students naively dabble in unfettered applications of historical potions, the accidental procurement of unwanted results is frustratingly...common," he continued.

She could sense his reprimanding tone.

Hermione nodded slightly. There was no challenge to what the Professor was intimating. She had, after all, blindly drunk a potion handed to her by a Slytherin that happened to have been incorrectly brewed by another.

"Professor, I didn't realise –" Hermione felt compelled to speak in her defence.

"Excuses will not abate the graveness of the situation. Miss Granger, I would expect you of all students to know the dangers of unceremoniously drinking potions that contain blood."

Hermione looked up at the Professor in shock. How much did he know? Her attempt to cover her surprise was futile.

Professor Snape smirked knowingly.

"I assure you, Miss Granger, there is only one potion that induces the fundamental reaction you suffered."

"_Blue blood_." Hermione said feebly, trying to reaffirm her level-headed intelligence that once existed, mainly for her own benefit.

The Professor paused, appraising the Heard Girl. "Correct," he stated, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I suppose you can tell me who discovered it then?"

"Professor Horace Travis." Hermione wasn't feeling too pleased with herself despite her knowledge bank.

"Why am I not surprised?" The Professor remarked dryly. "Did you also know Professor Travis was reduced to nothing because of its addictive and poisonous nature? Curiosity got the better of him. But, that that is just the deadly surface of the bubbling cauldron. The real trouble started when a secret society got their hands on his diaries in the late 19th century. That was when its true potential was realised."

Hermione recalled reading about the secret society from which Albatros Mabruxy was banished. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the Professor's explanation. But, she remained attentive, like the model student.

"As you know, the obsession with blood purity is rooted in our history. This Society was no different. There is no denying the genius of what was discovered...academically speaking, but ambition is known to drive the Dark Arts. However, that is not what concerns this School. Miss Granger, you need to tell me whether or not this was forced on you."

"I'm not sure I follow, Professor," Hermione said hesitantly, trying to discern its relevance. Perhaps her drowsiness had rendered her slow on the uptake.

"Verus Civitas is the curse on any Muggleborn who consumes _blue blood_. It negates the magical charge, reducing the wizard, or witch, to the status of a Squib...irreversibly."

It took a moment to sink in, the exact impact of his words. Hermione was conflicted between automatic distress and well learnt logic.

"Bu- but, I've never consumed _blue blood _in its purest state, Professor." The shakiness in her voice was only the beginning of her state of panic. She clasped her clammy hands together to stop the shaking.

"And you would never want such a curse inflicted on you. However, the beauty of _blue blood_ is in its versatility. That is where the danger lies; in its unfathomable volatility. The slightest variance in its application can produce an indefatigable spectrum of results." He paused and watched her eyes grow wide. "Public record only lists one potion that contains it, and I have no hesitation in assuming that you weren't the instigator in the brewing of the _etat d'esprit." _

Never underestimate just how much the Professors know. There was no point denying it; the man was a skilled _Legilimens. _ It was enough that he was eyeing her intently, watching her facial reactions, pausing on purpose to build her anxiety.

She couldn't believe what she was about to do. Hermione swallowed, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Professor, before I explain, I want it known that there was no ill intent on anyone's part. It was purely accidental -"

"Miss Granger, this is not a time for exhibiting house _spirit_," he spat distastefully. "It is not for you to decide the punishment of the perpetrator. There is a reason why an illegal potions register exists, and ignorance is no excuse."

Hermione pursed her lips. He was right, it was not her place to qualify the situation or feel brave about almost losing her ability to do magic. It was enough that she had thought she'd lost her Head Girl status. But, to realise that it was only ancillary to losing her magical charge, was shocking.

"You're right. I drank the potion. It was a stupid dare, fuelled by stupidity. I didn't know what it was until afterward. The...brewer only later realised their error but had no idea of the implications. None of us did." She sighed aloud.

"Are you saying that the brewer, and the person who gave it to you, are two different people?" Professor Snape raised an eyebrow questioningly.

_Shit!_

Hermione quickly shook her head. "No, I don't know who brewed it," she stated hurriedly. "I was...told. There have been other...uh...reactions that I've had to manage. I brought it upon myself to try and find out what I was dealing with."

He considered her explanation for a moment.

"Yes, well, drinking a potion that contains the blood of you polar opposite will induce various phenomena. It is rumoured that the effect of Veritas Civitas created a permanent connection between the recipient and the pureblood source. The extent of which, one can only guess. But, I imagine it was rather significant for the Society to put a sudden stop to such an...e_ffective _method of destroying Muggleborn magic."

_If only he knew!_ And, to think she had suffered all _this _just by drinking a diluted form of it. Hermione shut her eyes; trying to sort through the overwhelming information she had just been given. There was no way she would have found this out on her own accord.

And it frightened her.

"Uhm, Professor?" She looked up at the potions master. "Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion that she said you brewed. What was it?"

"Once we discovered that you had suffered poisoning, I brewed the strongest healing potion I could concoct, combined with a neutralisation potion used for the most severe blood poisoning. Timing was of the essence. Madam Pomfrey applied historical cocooning methods to conserve your charge and revitalise you. Several cooling charms were also applied, I believe."

"Oh," was all she said. She had a habit of doing that lately.

"My knowledge from here on is limited and purely theoretical. Continued doses should manage your condition but only the most drastic neutralisation can cure you completely. I don't know the extent of relapse, or other side effects. What I do know, is that it will require the cooperation of a certain, soon to be ex-Head Boy."

Silence filled the room as Hermione realised that Professor Snape knew all along of Malfoy's involvement.

And of his punishment.

"I believe Madam Pomfrey will keep you for observation until tomorrow." The stern mask of the potions master returned once more as he turned toward the exit.

Her mind, now quite alert from the shock of information, reeled over the possibilities. She had to ask him one more thing.

"Professor Snape?" He stopped, but did not turn around. "Has a Muggleborn variation of _blue blood _ever been considered?"

She saw his shoulders tense under his robes, and he turned to face her.

"I can't say any Muggleborn has ever been so concerned with the Dark Arts to test such a theory, Miss Granger. But, it would not reduce a Pureblood to a Squib. The potion thrives on the master-servant connection created in its few ingredients, which simply cannot be achieved in the reverse."

_Think, Hermione, think!_

"I was more interested in it from a neutralisation perspective. If the victim was to drink a Muggleborn variation, would it serve to negate the effect where it was not yet permanent?" she asked.

Hermione could almost make out the upward tilt of the lip on Professor's otherwise inscrutable face.

"You make an interesting observation, Miss Granger. However, think of a snake bite. The antidote is in the venom of the offending snake. How would you translate that to your _Muggleborn blue blood_?"

"Oh," she said, again, cringing at her loss of words and feeling of inadequacy. The Professor smirked before exiting the Infirmary and leaving the Head Girl alone with her thoughts.

She had made a fool of herself, thinking a simple reversal of the potion would solve all her troubles. If it were that simple, then the Professor would have given her that to drink rather than a concentrated generic healing potion.

_'You make an interesting observation, Miss Granger'. How demoralising!_

She groaned, falling back against her pillow, wishing she had her wand with her to test her magic. Instead, as she lay there, her thoughts shifted to Malfoy, the ex-Head Boy. He would definitely hate her now for it.

How ironic.

They wished it upon each other from the start, but now, she was worried about how he would treat her _not_ as the Head Boy.

Hermione sighed, turning to her side.

Malfoy was a snake. Slithering his way into her mind...

_'The antidote is in the venom of the offending snake.' _

"Oh," she barely said aloud.

_'What I do know, is that it will require the cooperation of a certain, soon to be ex-Head Boy.'_

That was not a look of ridicule Professor Snape had tried to suppress at her voiced theory.

_Had he just given her permission to try?_

Malfoy's cooperation was needed, indeed.

* * *

A/N: Fun times ahead, indeed! :p


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Lots of revelations in the last chapter, I hope it brought you some clarity! I know there is so much going on, I sometimes struggle to keep up with the pieces to the puzzle! Anyway, an indulgent update. I don't intend for it to go for another 30 chapters, I know some of you were wondering! I hope I'm keeping up the pace and keeping you intrigued at chapter 31. Thanks for all your reviews! xoxo  
**

* * *

Madame Pomfrey had reluctantly released Hermione with strict instructions and several vials of healing potion the next morning, but, not before Hermione had to endure an hour lecture.

"Hermione, the moment you feel any slight change physically, you rush right back here. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Madam -"

"And, if you find your magical response when using your wand feels any different, you come straight back here," the school Healer demanded. Her fussing over Hermione had become overbearing.

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey," she replied in her most reassuring voice.

The Healer nodded once, her lips tightening into a thin line. "Right, off you go then."

Hermione was desperate to escape the suffocation that had left her feeling uninvitingly vulnerable.

She felt _fine_.

* * *

Despite her eagerness to leave the Infirmary, a building anxiety flurried in the pit of her stomach. Hermione cursed under her breath, feeling annoyed that she was feeling unnerved just by walking to the Head digs.

'It's a reasonable reaction, you weren't allowed in last time,' she tried to reassure herself. The Knight's portrait came into view and she stopped just short of it, taking a deep breath.

"I was wondering when you might be returning," the Knight spoke as he lifted his visor. "Slight hiccup last time, eh?" he reflected sheepishly, grinning apologetically.

"So, I recall," Hermione replied carefully. "You know...you could have mentioned that it wasn't _me_ in actuality, but my state of being, that hindered you from recognising me as the Head Girl," she admonished.

"Well...yes, the Headmaster did visit me afterward, along with Professor Snape and Master Malfoy. It's all been cleared up now. Good to see you back. Although, I can't say the same for the Head boy," the Knight reflected openly as he moved to drop his visor whiel shifting his grip on his sword.

"Wait!" Hermione called out. The portrait eyed her with curiosity. "Has he already been...er...demoted?"

"Indeed! He was stripped back down to Prefect. I must say however, I will be sorry to see him go. Strong head on his shoulders. Bit of a temper though, that boy."

Only a bit? "Do you know if there will be a replacement?" Herimone queried.

"Headmaster's still debating that one, it seems. Well, must be off; I'm hosting the next round table. Lovely to see you back in good health, Miss Granger."

The portrait swung open and Hermione entered the Head Girl's digs.

The door to his room was wide open and Hermione could see that it was empty. She walked in and sat on the stripped down bed. She smiled slightly as she remembered hiding under it in a rather rash decision to search for her wand in the Slytherin's domain. She couldn't help but blush slightly as she recalled being in it, as well. Thinking back to the time that Malfoy had let her sleep in his bed was almost as surreal as having him pressed up against her in her bathroom.

She could only wonder about the extent of the connection that_ blue blood_ concoction created between a Pureblood Society member and a Muggleborn victim. One thing was for sure, it was troublesome and unpredictable, and the end result of him being removed from Head duties was...unduly ungratifying.

* * *

Hermione decided to go to class rather than idle about in her closed quarters. The longer she avoided the school body, the worse it would get. Besides, Malfoy wasn't in her Transfiguration group.

Ron was leaning against the classroom door despite others entering the classroom. He saw her approaching and called out, "Hermione!" He beamed at her, a flicker of relief crossing his features.

A few lingering students turned their head and looked at her as though she was a stranger to the hallways. She tried to ignore their curious, and somewhat judgmental, gazes as she approached Ron.

"Hi, Ron," she greeted feebly, worried at how he would respond. She didn't expect him to outright lean over and draw her into a hug!

"Are you alright? You've had us worried sick. Madam Pomfrey, the Headmaster, even Snape; none of them would tell us what happened to you, let alone allow us to visit! Harry is in a right state. The whole school is talking. What happened to Malfoy? Did he hurt you?" Ron questioned all at once.

Hermione pulled back. "Ron, slow down," she smiled reassuringly. "Yes, I'm okay. Can we talk after class?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Fine, but I'm not letting you out of my sight," he affirmed.

* * *

Hermione could not believe the rumours that had circulated in her absence from class. The school halls were thriving on the most salacious gossip that had ever graced her ears.

And, she was just getting a taste for it in Transfiguration.

Daphne Greengrass, and her biting tongue, was the first to let loose.

"You really have the innocent image down pat, Granger," she bit out during the practical.

Hermione swung her head around. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Granger." It was enough to leave Hermione on tenterhooks but she turned back to her work, ignoring the comment.

"Slag."

That would be enough to provoke anyone. Hermione whirled around, staring straight at Daphne who had a sickly saccharine smile plastered on her face.

"If you've got something to say, Daphne, just say it," she demanded.

"I'm sorry, you weren't supposed to hear that," Daphne replied sweetly, her hair cascading over one shoulder has she tilted her head to one side. Daphne's partner, a small framed pale girl, sniggered.

"What is your problem?"

"Take a guess." Hermione tensed, gripping her wand in an effort not to lash out at the girl opposite her. It was a good thing they were standing up for this task, as Hermione stepped closer and leaned over the Slytherin's work bench.

"Maybe it's something I can help resolve for you; get it off your chest. Don't want it eating away at you now, do we?" Hermione remarked impatiently.

"Oh, the Head Girl wants to help me? How altruistic of you. I'll tell you how you can fix it, Granger. Admit you staged your feigned illness rather than blame it on Draco. Who knew you were so vindictive."

"What?" Hermione blanched. Where did she get off saying that? "You think I faked being sick just to get Malfoy removed from his Head position? You're out of your mind!" Hermione failed to realise her voice had just escalated several decibels. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Ron by her side.

"Everything alright here?" he asked, glaring at Daphne.

"You should ask Daphne. She's the one with the problem," Hermione spat, ignoring Ron's consoling tone and the fact that half the classroom was now focused on the two girls.

"At least I don't pretend to be Miss Perfect. You should be the one removed from the Head position. Planting alcohol in Malfoy's room and pretending that he spiked your pumpkin juice with some pathetic potion is just below the belt, Granger. Couldn't handle the fact that Draco wasn't interested, perhaps?"

Hermione impulsively brought her wand up and aimed. "Take it back!" she threatened, her voice low and menacing, that even Ron pulled back.

"That's enough!" Professor McGonnagall snapped firmly, walking over. "Detention, both of you. Tonight after dinner. My office. I will _not_ have disruptions in my classroom," she ordered, her face stern and unimpressed. Hermione lowered he wand, shutting her eyes to control her temper.

"Sorry, Professor," she muttered.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Miss Granger, I think you should take the rest of the morning off. While I appreciate your eagerness to return to class, I imagine you are not quite recovered."

She felt Ron squeeze her arm reassuringly. "Yes, I'm not quite myself, yet," she replied, moving to gather her things.

She gave Ron a conciliatory glance before leaving the classroom.

What a great start to her return. And to top it off, she had detention with the vile Daphne.

There was only one place that could mollify her nerves.

Her fourth floor hideaway.

* * *

It was remarkable how a space could bring so much comfort to a person. Hermione let out a small sigh as she shut herself away. Despite the events of her last visit, it hardly mattered now. Things had never been so testing. Neveretheless, it was enough that her magic was still intact.

She should be grateful.

Hermione decidedly walked over to her mini library, pulling out the title she had referred to once before: _Magical Enlightenment: Heightening your sensory perception. _She turned to the page on _Discharging Desires, _which had caught her attention, for perhaps all the wrong reasons, when she had first investigated Malfoy's dutch courage inducing potion. If only she had known then what would transpire beyond the foundations of a fruitless placebo effect. Hermione scanned the text as she walked over to the desk and sat down, in disbelief at what had been under her nose the whole time.

_'Discharging desires: Occasionally, a substance, even in its most elementary form, will procure an unpredictable reaction to an individual's emotional output. Senses are impeded, but in a manner that is irregular and incoherent. This reaction exists beyond a potion's fixed purpose to elicit an emotional connection in another, such as the love potion, where the brewer's purpose is to make their intended fall blindly for them. _

_Here the victim is truly aware of their state of being - their desires. __They cannot be controlled, or pre-mediated, unless they are harnessed and diverted with equal force. It goes beyond a mere reaction to ingredients. It is a reaction to the magic._

_…_

_The more a person acts on the induced desires, the greater the difficulty in breaking them…'_

Hermione shut the book, unwilling to read anymore.

She was too fearful to indulge her curiosity. She leaned back against the soft velvet. A state of confliction washed over her: if she stayed she would keep reading in distress. If she left, she would return to an isolated Head digs.

Reluctantly, Hermione put the book away, knowing she would come back to it when she was in a more stable state of mind.

She opened her door to leave her sanctuary.

"Thought I might find you here."

"Malfoy!" she yelped in surprise. He was leaning against the wall on the opposite end of the hall, with his arms crossed.

The last thing she expected was that _he _would come searching for _her_. "What are you doing here?" she questioned reprovingly.

He reached into his robe and pulled out a rolled up sheet of parchment.

"The contract," she breathed as she recognised the familiar scroll.

"I thought this might catch your interest," he remarked.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his attempt to make light of the circumstances.

"How thoughtful of you," she retorted, hiding her piqued interest. Really, she just wanted to grab it off him and shut him out. He pushed off the wall and walked right up to her, leaning against the door way. She regarded him quietly.

"Snape must have you doped up on heavy stuff. You seem like you don't want to jump me for a change." He gave her a smarmy grin. One full of ulterior motive.

What happened to hating the person responsible for his 'ex-Head Boy' status? Hermione pursed her lips, unsure with how to treat his approach.

She resorted to old habits.

"Save your jokes, Malfoy. I've already had an earful of rubbish today," she replied plainly. Why did he always have to be the antagonist? It riled her to no end. "Besides, isn't the real mystery how you've managed to contain your...urges?" she shot back, turning away from him to walk back into the room.

The ex-Head boy followed her in silently and shut the door behind him. Hermione debated whether to sit on the chair or the floor, as she battled with how to deal with one non-hostile Slytherin Prince.

Silence surrounded them.

"Guess you win, Granger," he spoke up.

She spun around to face him, leaning against her desk. 'What a way to change the subject,' she mused.

"So, we're still treating this as a competition of sorts, are we?" she replied flatly, baffled by his approach. "I don't quite see it that way, considering..." She shrugged, not wishing to remind herself of the price of her win.

The Slytherin raked his fingers through his hair, a flicker of hesitation apparent. "What do you want me to say, Granger? You have no one to account to. I've had to fucking explain why I no longer hold a Head badge. I figure _you_, of all people, would understand my reason for trying to make light of the situation."

"Since when have I been your outlet for level headed indulgence, Malfoy?" Hermione inquired teresly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Since you're the only bloody person who knows what the fuck is going on!" he retaliated with exasperation. "Come _on_, Granger. Surely, after you nearly..." he turned away from her, running his fingers through his hair again in agitation. "Fuck!" he breathed.

Hermione had never felt so completely mystified. She figured she'd try to steer the conversation into a direction that could result in some answers.

"What did you say to Madam Pomfrey to convince her to break the no visitor rule?" she asked suddenly.

She saw his shoulders stiffen at her question. Malfoy turned slowly, his cool grey eyes chancing a glance in her direction before he directed his gaze to her books.

"I told you, Blaise sent me. Pomfrey wasn't too hard to convince since I represented the concern of the school body."

Hermione snorted.

"What?" He averted his eyes back to her, looking irate.

"You represent the concern of the school body?" It was laughable, but she tried her best to hold it in.

"Well, not anymore, Granger," he scoffed.

"It surprised me when Professor Snape told me," she tried to reassure. _Why_? She had no clue.

"Snape came to see you?" He looked slightly nervous and walked over to sit in _the_ armchair on the opposite side of the desk, which now acted as the proverbial fort protecting her from him.

Hermione nodded. "He explained everything. And, I just want to say...uh...well...thanks," she finished.

It was the Slytherin's turn to look like he had just been confounded.

"For what?"

"Well, for taking me to the Infirmary in time...uh...for telling Professor Snape, for putting yourself on the line to ensure I was given the correct treatment...under the circumstances."

Malfoy did not look pleased by her explanation. His lips tightened, and his jaw clenched.

"Why do you do that!" he exclaimed in agitation.

Hermione stared back at him blankly.

"Granger, you give me too much credit and I haven't the faintest idea why. What makes you think I was acting in your best interests?"

Obviously, she was mistaken.

And, she was sick of dismissing his reasons.

"Right, well...what in Merlin's name are you doing here, then?"

She could tell he was trying to hide his discomfort at her directness, but that calculated look of nonchalance no longer worked on her. She sensed the faintest change in his demeanour, and it unsettled her how observant of him she had become. She shrugged, raising her eyebrows simultaneously to signal her impatience. She knew it was futile, asking him straight out what his motivations were; what he wanted from her; why he had even bothered to appease her curiosity. And yet, she just couldn't help herself.

Slowly, he unrolled the parchment in his hand glancing down at it before turning it around.

Hermione flinched, blinking to reassure herself that she had registered the contents correctly, leaning over the barrier between them to get a closer look.

"It's blank," she stated disbelievingly.

"Not quite," he returned, slowly shifting his right hand from its place, revealing a faint line of elegant script across the bottom.

"What does it say?" She was too fearful to approach him to find out for herself.

"_Tainted blood of the Rose_," he read out loud. Hermione stared back at him wide-eyed, her sharp intake of breath audible.

Why did that sound familiar?

"Well, Granger, what do you suppose it means? Something has been sealed via the contract. Just not what we fucking expected." He threw the parchment on the desk beside him, and looked up at her, leaning over to close the distance between them. She caught his gaze, but quickly looked away.

"I don't think it has anything to do with the contract," Hermione mumbled, standing straight.

'It might have something to do with the tapestry, though,' she turned to look at the only wall hanging that had intrigued her previously.

Hermione walked across the room and stood before it, biting her lip. The two figures were still in the foreground. Her eyes slid down to the discovery she had made weeks earlier. That little piece of parchment with the barely legible script was still very much visible.

_Reprisal subsists in the line of the Rose. _

She let out a long confused sigh. It brought to light a whole new piece of the puzzle. The innocence of her sanctuary. How had she found it? Or, perhaps, how had it found her?

"He looks a bit like-" The voice was directly behind her. She was shocked out of her internal musings.

"You," she finished.

"Oddly...yes," he let out. She could sense him tense and she felt his body heat radiating of his robes as he shifted to stand next to her, leaning in toward the image.

"Who is Rose?" he asked.

"You tell me," she replied absently. If her memory served her correctly, that was the namesake of his great grandmother, daughter of Albatros Mabruxy.

She turned to look at him, knowing that her curt reply would agitate the Malfoy heir.

"What do you know about my ancestry, Granger?" he asked with distrust. She could see his defensive side kick in.

"Nothing...only that your great-grandmother was Rose Malfoy," she offered.

"And, what of it?" he retorted, his eyes narrowing.

"And, _nothing_."

"Then why mention it?" he tested, stepping closer, as if to catch her off guard. Hermione stood her ground, eyeing him squarely.

"Back off, Malfoy. It's just a lame guess. After all, the contract, which _you_ signed...which_ I_ signed, coincidentally makes reference to a 'Rose'. Whether or not it's related to this..._thing, _she gestured toward the tapestry, "...is a wild guess in context. Think about it.

"And, keep an arm's length distance," she added for good measure.

She could see him fight back a response, or a smirk. Either way, he was trying not to act predictably to her sudden mention of their proximity. It was old news.

He stood straight, creating distance between them once more.

"No one can know. Have you told Potter?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Don't."

_"What_?"

"Just, _don't_ say anything."

"I can't keep doing this!"

"Two days, Granger."

That was all he said. He walked out, leaving her in a state of déjà vu. Despite his demotion, the Slytherin Prince still had a hold over her.

Prat.


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: Well, it has been a long time since my last update...several months in fact. Well, I back from holiday and ready to get back into it! For those of you who live in NYC, I am so envious. It is an amazing place - had the best two weeks of my year there! Hope this chapter sets the right mood once again. Thanks for your patience. :p**

* * *

An author's summary to bring you up to speed: Draco Malfoy is still calling the shots, despite the loss of his Head badge, with his underhanded control over Hermione Granger who is still battling with the unknown. Just add Daphne Greengrass to the mix and Hermione could almost wish for _Veritas Civitas_...

Being excused from class by Professor McGonagall was a blessing in disguise. However, dinner and detention were always going to be an issue.

Hermione reluctantly entered the Great Hall, hoping to sneak over to the Gryffindor table, load up her plate and eat in silence, unnoticed.

A body rammed into her shoulder, almost knocking her off balance.

"That's for getting me detention." Daphne scowled at her before walking off as if nothing had happened.

Hermione clutched her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. "The pleasure's all mine," she muttered under her breath.

"Hermione!"

She whirled around to see Harry waving at her as he walked into the Hall. She gave him a small smile, wincing as she rotated her pained shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak as he approached, but instead, found her mouth blocked by the shoulder of her best friend as he enveloped her into a tight hug.

"Harry!" Her voice was muffled by his school jumper. His grip tightened before he finally let go of their embrace. Hermione blushed slightly. They were in the middle of the Great Hall, after all, and had managed to attract a few stares.

"I'm sorry," they both said in unison. They both frowned in turn as to why the other was apologising.

Hermione smiled tentatively. "There's a lot to say. I don't know where to start. But, I'm okay. Madame Pomfrey would not have let me out otherwise."

Harry nodded. They began walking toward their table. "And, what of Malfoy losing his Head badge?"

"Can't say I'm upset." Hermione dismissed. The less she made of it, the less she'd have to explain.

He was pensively silent next to her before speaking again. "I heard he poisoned you." It was a statement that did not invite challenge. Up to this point, they had not looked at one another. Hermione stopped and searched his eyes for any sign of question.

"Who told you that?"

"Blaise Zabini." There was a hint of disbelief in his voice, but his unwavering, dead set gaze signalled his disinterest in playing games.

"Well, he was right," Hermione affirmed. She sighed. "But, that's not really news, is it? I told you about the potion. You just didn't believe me."

Harry's face softened. "I'm sorry. I guess I was caught up in the fact that...you know...the _other_ side effects." He ran a hand through his already unruly hair, looking over her shoulder uncertainly.

"Yes. Well...turns out they were the least of my concerns...or yours." Why was it suddenly weird talking about it? She stepped away from him and sat down at the table. A few seconds later, he followed suit and sat next to her.

"It's complicated, Harry," she said. He turned to her.

"I figured as much," he replied.

Hermione nodded. "Believe me when I say it's not what I expected."

"Neither." His gaze faltered before he directed his attention to the pumpkin juice. She could see he was biting his tongue, withholding himself from embarking on a reprimanding rant.

"Pumpkin juice?" Harry was holding the jug in his hand with a lop-sided grin on his face. Hermione exhaled.

"Please." She reached for her cup and held it as he poured. "Thanks." Harry smiled. She didn't have to explain anything. He understood.

* * *

Detention with Daphne was a nightmare. The girl would not relent on her taunts, but she eventually eased up as the clock ticked at the halfway mark and realisation of what had to be done to avoid being stuck in detention overtime set in.

Hermione did her best to remain silent as they set about cleaning the Transfiguration props room. Dahpne would direct baleful glares at her now and then, and Hermione could tell she was holding back from speaking out her mind.

The air was tense.

"Psst, Hermione!" She heard someone whisper. Looking around, she spotted Blaise peeking through the shadows of the half open door. Hermione turned to check if Daphne had heard him – she was busy fussing over the cushions in the back cupboard. He gestured for her to walk over. Hermione scrunched up her face in confusion. Since when had he taken to seeking her out like this?

"What are you doing here?" she hissed. He gestured for her to approach.

She chanced a final look at Daphne to make sure she was busy and walked over to him, shielding his presence from Daphne.

"I wanted to see that you're okay." She smiled appreciatively. "How are you?" he asked.

"Better," she offered quietly, "aside from getting my first detention." He gave her a conciliatory smile and glanced over her shoulder at Daphne.

"She giving you trouble?"

"Nothing I can't handle." She wasn't going to get into semantics with Daphne only metres away.

"I tried to visit, but Pomfrey wouldn't let me."

Hermione looked down at her hands. "Malfoy mentioned you asked him to visit." She wasn't sure how he would react to the revelation that she had already spoken to Malfoy.

She noticed his jaw clench and lips tighten. "Right. Well ...I don't know why he said that because I haven't spoken to Malfoy since I let loose to Professor Snape about the potion."

"What are you doing?" It was Daphne and she was standing too close for comfort. Hermione gave Blaise a beseeching look and spun around, careful to guard the opening from Daphne's line of sight.

"None of your business," she bit out, glaring at Daphne while inwardly pleading that Blaise had left.

"It must be _something_ if the Head girl is slacking off in detention." Without waiting for a reply, Daphne shoved Hermione aside and opened the door, a clear "_lumos_" escaping her lips as she pulled out her wand. She was presented with bleak emptiness, the cool air from the hallway driving in to assault the warm hub. Hermione braced herself for the worst as Daphne directed her attention to the Head girl.

Hermione inwardly sighed with relief.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on, but mark my words, Granger; I am going to find out. Things have been too weird around here." Hermione stood challengingly, glaring back at Daphne.

"I don't care what you do, Greengrass. The next time you touch me, I will hex you. And, that's not a threat. It's a damn certainty." The classroom clock ticked over the hour. Both girls turned their attention to it before Daphne broke the silence.

"It's been a pleasure, Granger," her voice dripped with sarcasm. Hermione smirked – it was the only fitting response. They went their separate ways.

* * *

The common room was eerily quiet. Hermione sat, reclined in a beanbag staring up at the ceiling. She was vaguely reminiscing of all those months ago...when her only interaction with Malfoy had been to scold him and throw biting remarks in frustration, and sometimes for amusement. There were no complications. Just simple, surface laced derision that could be switched on an off as one pleased – depending on proximity.

And now, she was taking potions to contain the side effects of a curse - Veritas Civitas. She was thankful the essence of it had not come to fruition. Her one off moment of recklessness had almost cost her the ability to do magic. And somewhere along the way, she had become intimately tied with Draco Malfoy _and _Blaise Zabini.

Introspection - it did wonders to qualify things.

Hermione let out a long sigh - she had been doing that a lot lately - bringing her hands to rest over her stomach as she closed her eyes and felt the rise and fall of her chest. She needed Malfoy's full cooperation and that meant she needed to wait for him to approach her first. It wasn't as if anything would change in two days, right?

Wrong.

...

Daphne Greengrass was true to her word.

...

Hermione was walking along the corridors on her way to Arithmancy. As she reached the landing of the second floor and turned into the main hallway, Hermione was abruptly interrupted by a swat of Slytherin girls led by Daphne Greengrass. They stepped into her path.

"I have a class to get to. I imagine you lot do, too," Hermione directed impatiently. The last thing she wanted was to be late on her first day back to Professor Vector's class. She needed to be seated and settled before Malfoy showed up. Daphne remained unmoved, a calculated grin crossing her face.

"No one's stopping you from going to class. There are other routes around the castle."

Hermione could see where this was going. Daphne was going to antagonise without actually doing anything. "Right, well, I'm going this way." Hermione stepped forward, hoping that the younger girls would take a hint. But, Daphne stood her ground and so did they.

"I have no problem handing out detentions here."

"On what grounds?" Daphne tested.

"On grounds-" Hermione had to think for a moment, "-of disruptive behaviour."

"I'd like to see you try." Daphne goaded. A few of the girls snickered in response. Hermione glared at the culprits.

"Is this really necessary?"

Daphne stepped closer to Hermione her eyes sparkling with defiance.

"It's not a question of necessity, Granger." They stood eye to eye, waiting for the other to create a reason for them to escalate their hostility.

"What's going on here?" Hermione darted her head around to see Malfoy standing several feet away, his expression passive. She opened her mouth to speak when Daphne cut in with her well practiced sweetness.

"Draco," she purred. Hermione continued to stare at Malfoy – he looked...well, something was different. He did not glance at her once; it gave her an opportunity to continue to appraise him.

"Daphne, what the hell are you doing?" he asked, resignation apparent in his voice. Malfoy looked at the other Slytherin girls who had moved to lean against the wall, talking amongst themselves whilst shooting glances at Daphne worriedly.

"Granger and I were just having a chat about how she cost you your Head badge, weren't we?" Hermione turned back to Daphne, unable to help the scowl on her face as she reacted to the rubbish Daphne was feeding Malfoy.

"Whatever," she retorted. "I'll be on my way, then."

Hermione felt Daphne's hand take hold of her arm. "Not so fast. This looks like a perfect opportunity to have a reconciliation of sorts. It's been days since the Head girl and _ex-_Head boy have shared the head digs. Has it been lonely, Granger?"

Now that the girls had their confident leader back, they crowded around Daphne like vultures - her spectators.

Hermione eyes widened at the inferences being drawn and she stared at Malfoy with unconcealed horror. What the hell was Daphne playing at?

"Daphne, stop this," Malfoy demanded. He was standing straight and rigid.

"Tell him, Granger. Tell him that you miss him. He only has to hear it once to break him." Daphne's voice was dripping with ill intent. Hermione had walked into a trap. The only thing was that she had no idea how deep it ran.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione wavered. She forced a mask of indifference as her gaze drifted back to Daphne. Her insides were squirming.

"Oh, sure you do, Granger. Malfoy isn't that bad a lay."

Hermione blanched, her books slipping from her hands and thundering against the stone floor. Gasps of surprise surrounded them – clearly Daphne had not divulged her intentions prior to the event.

"Enough!" Malfoy thundered, his voice booming around them. Daphne was clearly taken aback by his ferocity. Hermione clenched up, she had never been so frozen with inaction. "I don't know what crap you've been fed, Daphne, but let it go," he ground out viciously.

Daphne motioned to speak, but Malfoy stopped her before she could let a word out. "Get the fuck out of here. All. Of. You." His voice was low and threatening. The Slytherin girls scurried away in fright.

Daphne glared back at him. "Just reinforced the rumour, Malfoy," she shot back challengingly.

Malfoy marched forward, straight past Hermione and stood in front of Daphne. "What are you going to do, Daphne?"

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "You hold no authority over me, or anyone. _Don't_ threaten me, Draco. It's you who should be worried."

"You've got some nerve if you think I'm worried about your salacious gossip mongering. You know _nothing!_" His voice was fierce and dismissive. Hermione had never seen him talk down to someone from his own House.

"You are a disgrace to Slytherin, Draco Malfoy."

"You're a meddlesome bitch, Daphne Greengrass." His anger was laced with mockery as he mimicked her.

"At least I don't fuck Mudbloods."

Hermione was broken out of her trance like state as the magnitude of Daphne's insult registered. That was the final straw. She was about to pull out her wand but Malfoy's reaction had caught her attention. He had stifferend with rage - the air crackled with the threat of an explosion of hexes that she would regret allowing. Hermione had to intervene, despite the cutting pain those words had unleashed.

"Malfoy-"

"Granger, go to class." It was not negotiable. He waved his wand at her fallen things and they hung near her stunned form.

She couldn't explain why, except that is was becoming unusually commonplace, but Hermione gave in to the prat's request. She grabed her things and walked past hurriedly, wondering whether she had done the right thing.

* * *

Hermione was naturally late to class; she quickly murmured an apology and made her way to a vacant seat near the back. She could hardly pay attention to a word the Professor was saying and spent the next fifteen minutes staring at the clock, clutching her quill, oblivious to the ink leaking all over her hand.

Her heart hammered against her chest and Hermione's face flushed with heat. How on earth did Daphne find out? She brought a hand to her cheek; it was so warm. Professor Snape's potion was not working as well as it should. Or, perhaps it was her first panic attack?

The classroom door finally opened and Malfoy walked in while the Professor was facing the board. A few heads stirred and looked up, but the class was left largely uninterrupted as Malfoy moved to sit at the only remaining vacant desk behind her. He did not acknowledge her once as he strode past, but she caught his agitation as her eyes flickered over him when he wasn't looking. It wasn't as if Hermione was trying to catch his eye anyway...was it? Her insides churned as she heard Malfoy shuffle his things behind her – she was on edge. Truthfully, she was desperate to know what had transpired after she had walked away.

The class continued with Hermione mostly so wound up, she had completely lost concentration. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end as she could sense Malfoy's gaze on her – one so intense that Snape's potion was definitely dwindling in its effectiveness as she could feel resentment hitting her like a wet towel: an uncomfortable slap behind the knees.

Hermione had never been so thankful that a class had come to an end. Reluctantly, Hermione slowly gathered her things as the other students cleared out.

She had an inkling that Malfoy wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

So there you have it...the story continues...:p


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: In the spirit of the holiday season, I have been able to update! This chapter was heavy to write, but it does bring some closure. I apologise for the delay, but here it is, finally. :p  
**

* * *

Malfoy must've sensed Hermione's unwillingness to depart from the classroom. "Daphne won't cause any trouble," he said impatiently.

His tone prompted her to stand from her chair and turn to face him. "What did you do?" Hermione asked accusingly. Again, she was struck by the same feeling she had experienced earlier in the hall – something was definitely different about him.

"Nothing," Malfoy defended from behind his desk.

She eyed him with distrust, and yet, her once visible disdain was hardly present. "Nothing?"

"Yes, Granger. _Nothing_." How could such a temperament amount to nothing? He was about as close to committing an unforgivable as she had seen him.

She was tiring of having to demystify his elusive statements. "How is that?" she tested.

The Slytherin's complacent grin was unforgiving. "Let's just say, Daphne has vested interest in keeping certain things from reaching her father's ear."

Hermione let out a light snort in amusement. "Somehow, I doubt that will stall her intentions."

Malfoy smirked. "Well you should think twice about your doubts, Granger."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?" she aksed.

He leant forward. "What it _means_, Granger, is that you don't have to worry about her ruining _your_ reputation when she has her own to consider." He stood up dismissively and grabbed his books.

Hermione was not having it.

"Where do you think you're going?" She stood up to face him. "_We're_ not done here."

"I have another class to get to, Granger. You of all people would appreciate that," he said, almost playfully, slipping his books under his arm. He gave her an expectant look, which seemed to falter under her intense gaze.

She really just wanted to scream at him – for being so bloody reasonable in his request.

"Fine."

His left brow arched.

"Fine?"

"Yes. _Fine!"_

She caught the mild disbelief in his face as he regarded her with apparent confusion before speaking.

"Okay," he said with a conclusive drawl.

She nodded, a surprising calmness washing over her, almost as if... as if accommodating his wish was pleasing to her.

The door clicked shut and Hermione was left standing alone in the classroom bemused by her behaviour.

* * *

"What was that about?" a voice demanded from behind as she waited for the staircase to the head digs to arrive. Hermione had suffered through a long day of heavy classes, lingering bewilderment and constant potion taking that was scheduled at the most inconvenient times.

It was Malfoy. She gave him a tired shrug, unable to make sense of what he was saying. The staircase locked into place and she began ascending the steps toward the head digs.

Malfoy followed.

"I imagine you should be heading south toward the dungeons instead, Malfoy," she said blandly.

"Not quite."

She stopped and turned to face the ex-Head boy standing a few steps below her.

"Can you just stop with the vague statements?"

"You have a bit of explaining to do yourself," he said matter-of-factly.

"About _what_?"

"Why didn't you hex Daphne for calling you a _mud_-? You _know_ what I mean."

"Why didn't you? You're the one she accused of sleeping with one."

"I _have_ slept with one," he said stiffly.

"And _I'm_ a mudblood," she replied bitterly. She turned and ran up the steps, reaching the landing.

"That wasn't the point!" he said, finally catching up to her.

She ignored him.

"Granger, stop!"

She did.

"Turn around."

She did.

"You should go to Madam Pomfrey." His expression was uncharacteristically sombre.

"No."

"Granger, go to Madam Pomfrey!"

"OK."

Her eyes widened as she made sense of his game.

He stared back with irate satisfaction. "You catch my drift, Granger?"

She shot him a baleful glare, and yet, she could not challenge him, but she could certainly make light of the absurdity of it all. "I suppose you should escort me, then, if you think so."

Hermione could hear him muttering under his breath as he walked with her to the Infirmary, clearly unimpressed. She wanted to yell at the top of her lungs for feeling like a pathetic lackey, taking orders from none other than Draco Malfoy, and so damn willingly.

* * *

"Hermione, dear, everything ok? Mr. Malfoy, I suggest your return to your House dormitory immediately."

"I told her to come here."

The school Healer eyed him with apparent sternness and clicked her tongue in distrust. "Hmmm," she dismissed, leading Hermione to one of the beds.

Hermione could see that Madam Pomfrey thought it some poor attempt at a joke.

Malfoy followed.

"Have you been taking the potion as required?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Hermione nodded. "It has been a little inconvenient, but I haven't missed a dose."

"Well, inconvenience is a small price to pay for magic."

Hermione withheld from rolling her eyes and avoided looking at Malfoy.

Madam Pomfrey hadn't clued on that he was still hanging about. "Have you kept a close eye for any anomalies in your magic?"

"Not that I can tell, Madam Pomfrey."

"Anything unusual at all?"

Hermione was about to shake her head.

"She is lying."

Madam Pomfrey almost jumped out of skin. "Mr. Malfoy! What are you still doing here?"

Hermione could see him withholding a smirk as his lips twitched with amusement. "I told her to come here."

The school Healer huffed with irritation. "Please return to your room, I don't want to have to call upon Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape should be here anyway," he retorted. The bloody git did not have a single ounce of respect for authority.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and turned to Hermione. "Very well, it would probably be a good idea to have the Professor present. I will be back shortly." She shuffled away, leaving Hermione seated alone on a hospital bed with Malfoy standing mere feet away.

"You need to speak up, Granger. Obviously, you're not yourself, but something else is wrong."

"I'm fine."

"No. You're not."

"Fine, I'm not!" She glared at him, her frustration obvious. Normally, she would have denied it until her face went blue. Enough was enough.

"I haven't been _fine _for several months, in case you hadn't noticed. What's _your_ secret, Malfoy? How on earth have you been able to control yourself? If I recall correctly, you're the addict who couldn't get me out of his head! Perhaps you just played me for a fool." Her raised voice echoed around the vaulted space.

Hermione slid off the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" he bit out.

"I've had enough of this." Why did he care anyway? The Malfoy she knew should be taking advantage of her acquiescing behaviour in the most humiliating of ways. She moved to walk past him toward the door, but instead found herself shocked by an electrifying restraint as a hand circled around her arm and pulled her back.

"Wha-"

She was flush against him, winded, as she stared into his piercing slate eyes.

"Cat and mouse has to stop," he breathed.

That did it. She could feel her inner rage float to the surface. "You're the one who told me to give you two days space," she ground out. "If it were up to me, we'd be working on the damn counter curse already!"

"I suppose that means you have all the answers on how to proceed then?"

She pursed her lips. "...Well...I have a fair idea!" Snape had confirmed it, after all.

"You have NO fucking idea, Granger." Despite his apparent belligerence, she could hear the strain in his voice.

Hermione brought her hands against his chest, shoving against his hard form.

He almost lost his balance from the suddenness of her movement. "What the hell are you playing at?" he admonished.

"Don't tell me what to do!" She realised it was a pathetic statement.

He was silent, watching her with open curiosity as he straightened himself. "Haven't you noticed, Granger, I'm the _only_ one who can tell you what to do?"

She didn't care for the way he was directing all his questions to her – he needed to provide some of the answers, after all. She gave a wry smile. "So, why aren't you taking advantage of that little fact instead of demanding I check myself into the Infirmary? Why are you even _here_, Malfoy?" She wanted to taunt him for his condescending attitude. "It's almost as if you care!"

She watched the Slytherin slowly draw in a heavy breath.

Her eyes widened. Of all the things she wanted, no _needed_, answers to, that wasn't one of them.

"Right," she murmured, looking away.

Now it was just plain awkward.

"Granger –"

The doors opened, and Hermione had never been so thankful to see Professor Snape. He stopped when he spotted Malfoy.

"I confess, I thought Madam Pomfrey had been muddled by potion fumes when she told me you were here, Mr. Malfoy. I see now that I was quite mistaken."

"Well _I_ thought it rather strange that Granger is not her usual defiant self and took the initiative to consider it more than mere convenience that she is now agreeing with me because I am no longer the Head boy."

"How touching," Snape dismissed before turning to Hermione.

She could not believe he had just said that! Her eyes narrowed at him in disdain before she turned her attention to the Professor.

"Miss Granger, have you been taking the potion as required."

"I've-"

"She's already gone through this with Pomfrey!"

Hermione and Professor Snape stared at Malfoy, a hint of mirth in both their expressions; both for different reasons. "I was speaking to Miss Granger."

Malfoy had the audacity to growl with impatience.

The Professor glanced back at Hermione, waiting for an answer. She was blatently busy trying to fight back the laughter that was building in her throat. Her lips twitched as she gave a delayed nod to compensate.

Professor Snape was not impressed. "Miss Granger, please control yourself," he said. That did it, Hermione burst out laughing, her eyes tearing up as she clutched her middle. It was quite a sight to behold, not to mention the reactions of the onlookers – one startled Professor who barely reacted to anything, and one fuming Slytherin.

"Miss Granger!"

Stomach muscles clenched as she rolled out another barrel of laughs.

"Granger, stop that!" Malfoy barked.

Hermione looked over at him and immediately felt overcome with indescribable shame, her laughs dying out instantly. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she said meekly, wiping her eyes.

The Professor stood straight and stiff as he took in the scene in front of him. Hermione gave him a weary glance, but avoided his scrutinizing gaze.

"Just how long have you two been experiencing unusual reactions to each other?" he asked forcefully.

Hermione gulped.

Malfoy leant against the end of a nearby bed, crossing his arms in disinterest.

"I will not ask again. Miss Granger, I remind you of the severity of your case."

"I am not sure what you mean by reactions, Professor," she said carefully. Hermione chanced a glance at Malfoy. He was watching her with a heated expression – one that demanded her to reply in his favour. Despite his nonchalant facade, he was very much interested in what she had to say.

The Professor narrowed his eyes, showing his unwillingness to elaborate.

"Just today," she lied through her teeth. She could feel Snape's intense scrutiny – one that she would never grow comfortable with given his frustrating ability to just _know_ when she was not being honest. Of course he knew she was being compromised by Malfoy's presence. Hermione paled at the thought of being questioned further by Snape.

"Mr. Malfoy, will you please leave the room. I need to speak with Miss Granger in private."

Malfoy stood tall. "I'm the one who brought her here. I am aware of what's wrong with her."

Hermione was beginning to find his behaviour strange. It was almost...possessive.

Snape smirked.

"Thank you for enlightening me. I am sure Miss Gragner appreciates the sentiment. Now, get out."

"If I leave, Granger leaves. As you know, she does what I request."

"This is no time for games!" Snape was losing his patience.

"Then I stay."

Hermione's mouth slackened in shock. She was not the only one with an expression of bewilderment. Madame Pomfrey, who had remind silent during the whole discourse made her presence known with an exclaimed inhale of breath.

A sinister smile graced the Professor's face. And yet, displeasure was still rooted in his expression.

"Well, well. It appears your _bond_ has matured," the Professor said finally. Hermione instantly felt the rise of heat across her neck and up toward her cheeks as she looked down at her hands, mortified. Her humiliation escalated by the realisation that her reaction implied a certain interpretation to Snape's observation – whether or not he had intended it in _that_ way.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It seems I underestimated things," Snape said, vaguely. "Madame Pomfrey, bring the Veritaserum."

"_What_?" Both Hermione and Malfoy cried in unison.

Madame Pomfrey seemed caught between what she had heard, and whether she had just imagined it.

Malfoy stepped forward, all tense. "I don't see how that will help, Professor!"

"Of course you don't!" he spat. "This is _beyond_ your comprehension."

Hermione stared back, mouth slightly open at the now angry Professor, unable to process his sudden emotionally laced outburst. He diverted his attention to her – she was almost winded by his graveness.

"Professor, we cannot...you cannot administer Veritaserum without Ministry approval," Hermione said, trying to control the budding fear of induced verbal spilling of the past few months of her very chaotic life.

The look Snape sent her said it all – how could she suggest such a thing when they had been tampering with substances that were on the illegal potions register?

"Professor I must insist. This is not necessary. We are working to a solution."

"No, you are playing _games,_ Draco," the Professor corrected. It was the first instance that he had used his godson's first name.

Hermione felt hopeless. This was not the direction she had anticipated. Why was everyone suddenly so involved in her life? The thought weighed down on her; she felt dizzy and her eardrums throbbed from the escalating pressure in her head. She felt her legs give way, as her eyes lost focus, and she could just make out Malfoy's and Snape's forms coming toward her as her eyelids were pulled down by an invisible lead weight.

"Granger-"

He had no time to demand she wake up.

* * *

"This is absurd - "

"This is the counter curse, Draco."

"It won't work!"

Hermione stirred in her sleep, the voices of people talking around her became more coherent as she regained consciousness. She groaned, realising that she was still in the Infirmary – a pathetic eye sore at the mercy of Slytherins.

Professor Snape and Malfoy were in deep conversation with Madame Pomfrey scurrying about like she was working to a deadline.

Snape caught Hermione's gaze as he sensed her movement. "Enough," he said to Malfoy and walked over to the bed. "Miss Granger, good for you to join us. Madame Pomfrey, bring the potion."

Hermione sat up on the bed; she had been placed on the top of the covers, fully clothed, and felt like she had been asleep for hours. What potion? She was not about to submit to a dose of Veritaserum. "No!" she demanded. "I am not taking it." She looked at Malfoy, expecting him to intervene with his innate knack for defying orders.

Instead, he sent her a wavering glance as he walked to the corner of the room and sat down on a visitor's chair as far away from her as possible. It was as if he wanted no part of it, or, that he had submitted to whatever Snape's request had been.

"What's wrong with you?" she mouthed at him, as the Professor had turned away to mutter something to the school Healer as he handed him a vial.

He shook his head dismissively, running his fingers though his hair in agitation. He motioned to say something but was interrupted by the Professor.

"Mr. Malfoy, you need to leave in case there are any side effects."

"What side effects?" Hermione was confused – the only side effect that Veritaserum instilled was a very bad case of verbal diarrhoea. "Why should Verit-"

"It is not Veritaserum, dear," Madame Pomfrey cut in.

"Can someone please tell me what is going on?" Her wavering voice evidenced her rising panic. She shuffled to move off the bed, but Madame Pomfrey came forward, resting her hand on Hermione's shoulder reassuringly.

"Miss Granger, this is the counter potion." Snape was holding a vial of burgundy liquid, it looked almost like...

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at Malfoy, disbelieving that he would have been talked into it so easily.

"Don't be so surprised, Granger, I want nothing to do with you," he bit out, abruptly standing up and walking out of the room, the double doors slamming shut behind him.

She supposed she shouldn't have expected any better given his...sacrifice. She wanted to laugh. "But, Professor, h-how?"

"It was all you Miss Granger. I was merely the voice of reason." He smirked.

She really was growing sick of second guessing every damn detail. Hermione pursed her lips, trying to suppress her urge to interrogate her superiors.

It wasn't working.

"How could I have helped with anything when all I do is end up here after fainting all the bloody time?" she nearly shouted. "I am feeling rather inferior at the moment."

"Oh! Miss Granger, Don't say such a thing!" Madame Pomfrey looked ready to faint herself.

"Compose yourself," Snape warned. "Everything has a purpose. I would appreciate if you stop wasting my time with your petty emotional outbursts. Use your _brain_, Miss Granger - you've make a point of making it know you have one."

"I do not make it a point-" she started, before trailing off with realisation. "Oh, I see."

Snape looked unimpressed. "Madame Pomfrey, I will take it from here, you may attend to other matters," he said, while still concentrating on Hermione.

"Very well, you know where to find me," she surmised.

"Indeed," he dismissed.

Hermione leaned against the pillow in slackened disbelief. She was not expecting for things to end so...easily.

"Something I learnt a long time ago - never leave anything up to students. They waste _time_." He lifted the stopper off the vial in his hand. "I have been preparing this since your last visit here, Miss Granger. Despite my hints to you, Mr. Malfoy was always going to be problem. It would have taken a lot more _effort _had I not taken matters into my own hands."

"You wanted me to faint?"

"Exactly."

"And my behaviour toward Malfoy's demands?"

"Expected."

"How?"

"My healing potion could only inhibit existing reactions. A master-servant effect of the improperly brewed _etat d'esprit_ you consumed seems to have come to fruition. I did not expect it to that degree, given your magical powers remain intact, but, as I've said, there are too many variables to consider." He handed her the potion.

Hermione took it carefully. She could now see the activity within the vial – it circled in an anti-clockwise motion, streaks of deep purple swirling ominously through the crimson substance.

"It is a purifying potion – well, a version of it – and, as you rightly guessed, it contains the young Malfoy's blood."

"How much of it?" Hermione asked, lifting the potion up toward to the light. It only emphasised its saturated thickness.

"Three willing drops of it."

"How did you know he would give it?" she scrutinised.

"You don't just have a habit of answering questions, do you Miss Granger?" he replied, growing tired of her delay in drinking it.

"I appreciate you have saved me considerable trouble, but it would be comforting to know how you managed it. I mean, how did you even know that Malfoy would bring me here?"

"I didn't. I had not expected the opportunity to come so quickly, I admit. I just took advantage of it – who knew how long I would have to wait for the next chance to scare it out of him." He seemed almost amused by the fact. "That, and the historical fact that half the Muggleborn women who were reduced to a state of _Veritas Civitas_ ended up as the unspoken mistresses of many Society men. Draco Malfoy knows his obligations to his family – that was enough to coax him to comply."

Hermione inhaled in shock. She could feel her face heating up once againg, from the roots of her hair all the way down to her neck. Served her right for asking questions – it only confirmed the extent of what Snape knew. She looked away, trying to contain herself. "Does this mean I will be completely neutralised?" she asked, staring at the potion once again. No more Malfoy, no more fearing whether her emotions were real or driven by the effects of a potion, despite her full awareness of her actions. Her thoughts drifted to Malfoy - would the veil that clouded her judgement be lifted to leave her with memories that would drive her to hate herself? It almost brought fear to her eyes.

"Yes. Unless, of course, Malfoy has consumed some other concoction of which we aren't aware." The Professor smirked as Hermione glanced up at him in horror. 'What a timing for jokes', she thought wryly.

She brought the vial to her lips and tilted it toward her open mouth, letting the thick, silky, cool liquid glide down her tongue.

She swallowed.

* * *

There you have it. But, as one door closes, does another open? How does it all fare when Hermione goes back to her 'normal' life?


	34. Chapter 34

**AN: An update! Finally! Being busy is no excuse...I know... I do admit though, it has been a difficult chapter fo me to write, so I sat on it for a while until it was grating on me to finish it! Apologies for delay. Enjoy!  
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* * *

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Professor Snape had allowed Hermione to sleep in her own bedroom that night – a consoling gesture for such a dramatic evening. One that hinted at the return of a semblance of natural order to her life now that she was relieved from the physical inflictions of the _etat d'esprit_. Or, so she hoped...until she could prove it. With a metaphorical spring in her step, she started the day with a feeling of fresh resolve. One that was well overdue.

"There is the little issue of you having to take on more duties recently in the absence of a Head Boy. We have several options to discuss with you," her Head of House said.

Hermione sat across from Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. They had called her in for an overdue briefing of the recent demotion of Draco Malfoy. With all that had transpired, a little extra work was the least of her worries. She gave a non-committed shrug.

"We have discussed putting it to a vote within Slytherin House, only. Professor Snape believes that since the former Head Boy was a Slytherin student, his replacement should be a representative of that House."

"The students will adjust more easily this way, Minerva," the Potions Master said, as though he was reminding her of a private discussion.

"It is not without its problems, Severus. The other Houses may not have the same view."

The Slytherin Professor scowled, but said nothing.

Hermione watched them silently, avoiding Snape's scrutinising gaze. It was almost as if he were assessing her for any after effects. She briefly wondered if her Head of House had any idea what had really happened to her. That the Slyherin Professor had been the one to fully understand her predicament and come to her aid was difficult to digest.

"The other option we have discussed, Hermione, is a vote by the Head of Houses based on nominated students. This is where you would come in. The Head girl may choose a nominee, as well as the Head Professors who will nominate a student from their respective Houses. Your nomination can be from any House, of course."

Hermione was rather confused, and flattered, that her superiors were asking for her preference. Her initial reaction came as a surprise as she considered the request. Being asked to nominate a Malfoy replacement was...well, not easy to conceive. She had grown so used to him and his idiosyncrasies, his abrupt and conceited manner, not to mention, his outright rudeness at times. Despite all his flaws, Malfoy had been good at it – at being the Head boy, and somewhere along the way, she grew to respect him in the role.

Her inner speech left her looking rather blank faced in front of her Professors. She looked at them, pursing her lips in thought. Did she owe it to Professor Snape to agree to have a Slytherin student replace Malfoy as voted by its members? Or, did she owe it to herself?

She could feel him appraising her – almost as if he was inspecting her for any post-blood-purifying after effects. "I have a question."

"Of course," Professor McGonagall encouraged.

Snape, on the other hand, seemed about ready to spurt some verbal insult about her stalling.

"How long do I have to give you my nomination?"

Professor Snape looked almost affronted.

"Very good, Miss Granger, I'm pleased to hear you wish to have the Heads of House vote. If you can inform me of your nominee by the end of the school week, we can vote on Friday evening."

"Thankyou, Professors."

"You are excused from patrols until then, Miss Granger – to avoid any issues with the other Prefects. They may try to be...persuasive."

Hermione smiled, trying to imagine the likes of Lisa Turpin attempting to blackmail her for a vote. She avoided the Potion's Master's gaze and quickly left the room.

She had a Slytherin to seek out.

* * *

A few students were hanging about in the stands of the Quidditch field watching the Slytherin team practice. She used to make an effort with Harry and Ron, doing just that when they would practice before a game, but it had been a while.

She spotted Daphne, surrounded by her female lackeys, and made a move for the opposite end of the pitch. The last thing she wanted to do was have a verbal exchange with _that_ girl. Hermione climbed the stairs of the stand near the southern goal posts and sat down on her own, pulling out a book to keep her occupied. It was perhaps brazen of her to seek out any Slytherin a day after Malfoy had willingly given his blood to have hers 'purified'. The irony of it was almost too unsettling.

The Pureblood curing the poisoned Muggleborn.

It didn't escape her either that the Pureblood had poisoned the Muggleborn in the first instance.

An inordinate amount of power and success with little effort – it almost mimicked life.

Hermione briefly stared at the all male Slytherin team engaged in discussion on the field below. They must be talking strategy, she mused, as they all watched Malfoy intently while he spoke. He appeared tense with concentration, and for a change, that was a mere impression - in fact, she had no idea what he was feeling.

She smiled with relief.

It had worked.

Hermione turned over her book and began reading.

_To curse the blood of another has long since been considered the most vengeful act one could commit in Wizard society. Notably, family rivalry over estates, and the dishonour brought by children of Society were often leading causes driving the patriarch of a notable house to uphold its honour. That is to say, children were often at the mercy of honouring the family name - often an issue in marriage._

_...A family blood curse often remained a secret that died with the generation unless it affected the family line, or was recorded in the family history in some way.' _

Hermione had not just pulled any book from the library. It was: '_The Curse of Honour.'_ The dust on it said a lot about how little it had been used by other students. A shadow of the past. One that hinted at the malevolence of elitist purebloods. She wasn't surprised by it in the least.

Her meeting with the Professors earlier had sent her on a cognitive tangent and it was a nice change that her thoughts were clear for once. Snape's dissecting gaze did not just have her thinking about the next Head Boy, but strangely, it caused her to recall his explanation of how he had coaxed Malfoy into cooperating by reminding him of his 'obligations to his family'.

It was rather odd that Malfoy had been so reactive to the Professor's words. His age, and marital status, didn't exactly warrant a need for any concern associated with having a Muggleborn mistress. Hermione let out a little snort at the thought – had things continued, she had no idea how far her reaction to him, and his demands on her, would have led. If anything, his sudden curious ability to control his ...urges...was the buffer of an out of control situation and only added another layer of mystery to the whole thing. He must have attached meaning to Snape's words in another context.

She was determined to find out.

"Last time I checked, no Gryffindors are allowed on the pith during Slytherin training."

Hermione shot her head up, looking straight into the telling eyes of Theo Nott. "Theo," she prompted.

He was on his broom stick, hovering nearby. "Message from the Captain - he says you need to go."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, if it's from the _Captain_, then I should oblige," she replied, trying to hold back a smile.

"Rules, Granger." He shrugged, glancing down at her book. She was relieved she hadn't shut it to let its cover show. From his view, it looked like any other school book. "Transfig?"

"No, I've left that in the capable hands of the Captain. You might want to ask him about your book."

He smirked.

Hermione didn't wait for a response. "So, I guess you're no longer failing Transfiguration?"

"Temporary infliction."

Such telling words from a Slytherin – it seemed that cryptic vagueness was a common trait amongst that lot. "Funny that." Hermione replied.

His eyes filled with amusement before he turned on his broom and sped off.

Hermione stood up and left the stands before anyone else noticed her presence. She had a feeling Nott had come over without Malfoy knowing.

That evening, she went to see her Head of House.

"Professor, I have made my decision." Hermione inhaled. "I nominate, Draco Malfoy."

* * *

Saturday morning, at breakfast, Hermione sat in silence, waiting for any telling signs of an announcement. She had no idea what the Head of Houses had decided. Professor McGonagall had finally accepted her nomination after Hermione had pointed out that she had assumed all students, even Malfoy, were eligible under the new vote. It had taken a while, and a lot of supporting evidence to substantiate her nomination.

She had her reasons.

And, she was certain Snape would have appreciated her choice – a conciliation of sorts, albeit a slightly twisted one. Her vote had gone to Slytherin, after all.

"Alright, Hermione?" Ron asked.

She nodded. "I think we're in for a bit of a shock this morning."

"It's Saturday," he reminded. "Unless there's a Quidditch match, nothing ever happens. And, there's no Quidditch match."

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes at his supposition. She loved these moments of clarity that Ron seemed to bring to the table. She hoped he was right and the Heads of House had delayed their decision making. Instinctively, Hermione turned her attention to the doorway, in case a Professor walked in, as the doors opened. Instead, she watched Harry walk toward their table, looking half asleep and rather worse for wear.

"What's wrong with Harry?" she asked Ron.

He shrugged.

"He looks _terrible_."

Ron lifted his head up and turned toward the entrance, spotting his friend. "He looks alright to me."

Hermione huffed, standing up to seek out Harry's gaze. She waved for his attention and he gave her a small nod as he caught her eye.

The closer he got to the table, the worse he looked. He slumped into the spot next to Hermione and, with a forced effort that bordered on lethargy, he reached for a piece of toast.

Hermione turned in her seat to face him. "Harry, you look like you haven't slept in days." She had spotted the dark circles under his eyes.

"Because I haven't," he replied laconically, dragging the bread knife laced with jam over his toast like a dead weight.

"Who is it, then?" Ron piped, looking somewhat amused.

"Ugh! Ron, that is just crass." Hermione shot him a reprimanding glare.

"Hermione, I am sure he has a very normal explanation for why he hasn't slept because he was too bloody busy doing something... or someone." Ron defended.

Harry bit into his toast, unfazed that he was being talked about.

Hermione crossed her arms, pursing her lips at Ron before looking at Harry with slight weariness. Now that Ron had made _that_ comment, she didn't want to pry.

"Well, then," she said, unable to string two sentences together. She turned back to her breakfast, hoping that Harry would just get on with it and tell them about it. All she heard was a series of boyish grunts. She leaned in closer in hope of making sense of his exhausted mumbles. "Harry, can you speak up?"

Resigned to repeating himself, he reluctantly put his toast down. "I said - ," he turned his head to look at her, "- bloody owls outside my bedroom window have been driving me bloody mad!"

Hermione stared back at him, confused. "Owls?" She was trying so hard not to smile.

Ron, however, could not even pretend to have a degree of empathy and just laughed. "What owls? I haven't heard anything. Oi, Seamus!"

Seamus looked over at them, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

"You hear any owls last night?" Ron called.

Hermione wanted to hex him for his insensitivity. The boy had no tact, whatsoever. "Ron!" she hissed.

"_What_?" Seamus looked confused. "Owls? Nah, mate. Just your snoring."

Hermione chuckled as Ron gave him a dismissive wave. "Git," he muttered.

"Never mind him," Hermione directed, trying to swing the conversation back to Harry. "Everyone knows you snore," she said.

Ron looked offended. "Why doesn't he just cast a _Silencio _on the bloody things, then?"

"If I could actually see them, I would!" Harry suddenly said rather hotly. "Can't exactly throw a silencing spell into the air around me and hope it would catch onto something!"

"Harry, surely they're not hanging about your window _all _night," Hermione tried to reason.

"It's almost as if they're out to get me. Just when I think they're gone, I've got a whole Parliament of owls hooting. I even tried sleeping seated at the window with my wand in case I spotted one. All I know, is if this continues, I'll be in no state to play Ravenclaw on Saturday and we could be out of the running for the Cup." He slumped his shoulders and took a swig of his juice.

"Turpin's injured, so we'll be fine."

"Ron!"

"_What_?"

"Try to acknowledge that this is a problem for Harry."

"I've got some charmed ear muffs he can borrow. There, problem solved."

Hermione shot him a glare. "They're not exactly comfortable to sleep in, Ron."

"Well, if he keeps on his back, he'll be fine. Better than no sleep at all!"

"Bloody genius!" Hermione mocked.

Ron looked affronted. "You're the one who knows more spells that the school body combined and I don't see _you_ coming up with any solution!"

Hermione straightened up, all fired up for a morning argument. "You're the one who's not taking this seriously!"

"Can you both keep it down? Neither one of you is helping," Harry said, bringing his fingers under his frames to rub his eyes.

He was right. She had almost forgotten that Harry was even there amidst her overactive state. "Fine. I'll see what I can find," Hermione said meekly, exhaling slowly to release her aggravation. Ron was so infuriating at times.

A contemplative silence surrounded their morning interaction. Hermione poked at her morning muesli trying to abate her edginess.

"The ear muffs are still there for the taking," Ron joked suddenly.

Hermione looked over at him in amused disbelief, smiling at his grinning face.

Harry seemed to visibly relax as he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Thanks."

Hermione shrugged. Nothing was ever simple these days, not even managing a good nights rest. And, where was that announcement? She downed the rest of her juice, hoping that the sweetness would bring some vitality to her morning.

* * *

That evening, Hermione sat reclined in a beanbag in her flannel pyjamas horrified by the anecdotes she had been reading in _The Curse of Honour. _She almost felt a twinge of pity for the heirs of noble houses who had been subjected to treatment beyond her comprehension. It didn't help that they rarely had more than one child to burden.

She didn't know why she had become so enthralled in the contents of the book. At first, it was in attempt to understand Malfoy, but now, she was just intrigued by the workings of the elitist mindset that drove them to such lengths to honour blood status.

Hermione sighed, wriggling to sink herself further into the beanbag and looked about the room. She hadn't changed it back to its original state since Malfoy's departure. The head digs were now familiar to her as containing a rather colourful common room that invited a certain comfort that she could not bring herself to extinguish with a simple _Finite Incantatem_.

The sudden movement of the portrait door caught her attention. She wondered briefly if it was a Professor bringing her news of the decision.

No, that wasn't it.

"Granger."

"Malfoy." She felt almost too small sitting where she was across the room from him. It was difficult to think of anything to say, or ask for that matter.

He stood at the entrance of the portrait hole, lingering momentarily before finally speeking. "Well, I'll just-

"Go ahead." She had no idea why she just said that.

"Right." He frowned.

Hermione let her gaze follow him as he walked across the room to his old bedroom door. Was he here to collect something? She looked to the portrait hall, expecting a Professor to follow him in any moment. There was no one.

A distant mumble caught her off guard and she turned her attention to the closing door, the resounding click bringing a rush of blood to her head.

Her lips parted with shock. It wasn't that he had just wished her 'goodnight'. It was at that point it dawned on her he had been let in by the Knight in the portrait.

Only the Head Boy could have such a privilege.

* * *

AN: Oooh, I love that Malfoy is Head Boy, again. You didn't think I would be _that_ cruel to him. Not in this way, anyway...:p


	35. Chapter 35

**AN: OMG! Quickest update in a long time! And, it's a decent length, too! Enjoy!  
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Hermione was not impressed. It was inexplicable and childish, but she could not explain her behaviour other than to judge it as an observer. It was irrational, pitiful, and almost pathetic the way she avoided the Head Boy like he was the bearer of bad news. She convinced herself that she did not want to test the limits of proximity, in case things backfired and somehow her cured state would all go unhinged. In truth, she just didn't know how to act around him.

Pathetic.

She knew it.

"They're saying that Malfoy threatened your life if you didn't beg the Professors to reinstate him as Head Boy."

"Who said that?" Hermione asked Lavender who had uncharacteristically sought Hermione out between classes in a rather sedate manner.

"Well, that's the more believable version - except for the begging. I mean, you? Beg?"

"There are others?" Hermione looked at her housemate in disbelief. This sort of gossip was the last thing she had expected. It was almost petty in comparison to her cowardly avoidance of him.

"The Slytherin rumour mill has you pegged as already being under the _Imperius_," Lavender replied.

Hermione snorted.

"I mean, why _anyone _would want Malfoy as Head Boy is beyond me. He was awful! A moody prat. He probably had his father bribe the School Board to get him back in the seat, if you ask me?"

"Probably," Hermione muttered.

"Oh, and this Slytherin girl. Greengrass? Or, something. Anyway, she's blonde." She waved a hand dismissively as if that description were sufficient. "You seem to be her favourite topic for discussion. You should hear what she's been saying."

"I'd rather not," Hermione mumbled. It seemed like Lavender wasn't taking the hint that starting to walk away was a sign that Hermione was trying to escape idle gossip.

Naturally, Lavender followed alongside. "She reckons you poisoned, cursed, hexed - I forget which one - Malfoy, and now he's blindly fallen for you and –

"Wait, _what_?" Hermione stopped in her tracks and stared at the messenger.

Lavender huffed impatiently. "Well, in Divination the other day, she asked Professor Trelawney if there was any way of using tea leaves to do a reading for a person you're concerned about. I think she's tyring to find a way to somehow prove that you and Malfoy are- were- whatever- involved. I mean, come on! She is NEWT level. Doesn't she know that she _can't_ do that? So anyway, Trelawney told her to try the crystal ball."

Hermione stared at Lavender, her heart almost beating out of her chest. If Lavender thought there was any truth to Daphne's rants, there was no stopping the rumour mill. She had to keep herself composed and act as if it were all a royal joke. "I hear crystal balls are quite testing at the best of times," she said, a flippant comment to wave off Lavender's radar. Although, the fact that Lavender had completely ignored giving an opinion on the actual curse was reassuring enough.

"Not if you have the eye," Lavender replied, as if it were common knowledge. "Anyway, in class today, that blonde Slytherin is getting really annoyed because she is not getting a reading until Trelawney walks over and insists that she sees an owl in the crystal ball."

Hermione's ears perked up. "An owl?" She furrowed her brow, recalling the dog Trelawney had associated with Harry's death. What was it with her and animals? "Wonder what that means." She was itching to know for her own amusement how that had anything to do with her _poisoning_ Malfoy to fall for her... charm? More like the reverse! Not that it would appease Daphne to know that.

"Well, Trelawney believes it's a sign of a buried secret. Isn't that brilliant?" Lavender replied excitedly.

"Right." Hermione didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't _that_. "Nothing about me cursing Malfoy to hopelessly fall for the Head Girl, then?"

"Well, that _could_ be the secret," Lavender said enthusiastically, egging on Hermione to divulge any details.

Hermione was struggling to contain herself. "Trust me. It's not on my 'to do' list. You would know about it." She tried to suppress the niggling fact that he had kept what had happend between them away from the hallway's ears.

Lavender shrugged. "Well, I'd watch out for her."

Hermione nodded knowingly. "Thanks, Lavender."

"Keep your ear out for any owls!" she called as she walked away, giggling.

Despite Lavender's silliness, Hermione was suddenly reminded of Harry's problem. She needed to visit her hideaway, tonight. But first, she had to set another Slytherin straight. He seemed to have completely dropped off her radar since her recovery.

Thank goodness for Potions. It felt like a lifetime ago since she last attended the class.

* * *

Blaise Zabini had not made an effort to seek Hermione out in some time. He had snuck up on her the night of her detention with Daphne to see if she was okay, but since then...nothing. As far as Hermione could tell, it was almost like he had got what he wanted from her, gave her the conciliatory pleasantries and dropped from the face of the earth. Never mind the fact that he was supposed to be helping her brew her own version of the now forgotten potion. He hadn't even bothered to update her on its progress. That could only mean one thing. He hadn't made any.

She spotted him already seated at their shared desk. He caught her gaze and nodded – a far cry from his usual toothy smiles and concerned looks.

"Hello, stranger," she greeted as she sat down. It was more of an acknowledgment, really.

"Hi, Hermione."

She really hadn't expected him to reply so casually. "That's it?" she asked, feeling a sting of annoyance.

He looked over at her, his gaze intense. "What do you want me to say?"

Hermione's eyes widened slightly at his reply. "Forget it," she dismissed, turning her head away and focusing her attention on her books. She was suddenly feeling quite irate.

Silence followed from her lab partner but the air between them was tense. The energy coming from the one person, whom she had come to rely on during the whole ordeal with Malfoy, was now the polar opposite. He was so...detached. She simply didn't know how to take him. Her anger was mounting.

"You know..." She turned to look at him, pausing. This wasn't the time or the place to start anything – not that she had a plan to deal with one aloof and indifferent Zabini; the only Slytherin to ever offer her any help or respect.

He gave her a sideways look, expecting her to continue.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

He tweaked an eyebrow, as if she had interrupted his train of thought.

Hermione was almost fidgeting with the edginess he had provoked and the rising lump in her throat was making it all the more unpleasant. She wasn't prepared to endure a whole class with Blaise Zabini acting like _that_ with her feeling like _this_? Certainly _not_.

Hermione promptly stood up and grabbed her things.

"Where are you going?"

Well _that_ was unexpected. Hermione just looked at him, agape. "Well, I can tell when I'm not wanted."

The Slytherin let out a small chuckle. "When has that stopped you?" His comment could have been construed as malicious, except for the fact that he was smiling.

"Well, I'm glad one of us can laugh about it," she replied stifly, picking up her books.

"Look, there's no need to move, okay?" he said, a slight resignation apparent in his voice. Apparently the guy couldn't hold a grudge. He looked up at her. "Please, just sit down."

Hermione reluctantly sat. "Have I done something?" she asked after a moment.

He sighed. "You could have told me you didn't need me working on the potion," he said in a low breath.

Hermione gave him a confused look. So that's what this was about? "You haven't spoken to me properly since I had detention with Daphne. How can I tell you anything? Besides, you hadn't really mentioned it so I thought you hadn't bothered."

"You would know where to find me," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "And, I would have thought you knew me a little better by now." His telling look said it all.

Hermione couldn't help the blush that spread from her neck to her face like spilt wine. It was suddenly too warm in the classroom and the more people that filed in, the more difficult she found it to suppress her harried state.

It was at that point that Malfoy chose to walk through the door. He stopped dead at the doorway, looking down the classroom at them both. Had he forgotten that he took this class with them, or was it her beetroot stained cheeks and Blaise's concentrated look that caught the Head Boy's attention?

Hermione turned away and picked up her quill, focusing on writing the date on the top of her fresh piece of parchment as if her life depended on it. A shadow loomed over her.

"Nice to see you two have kept up your pleasantries. How...refreshing it must be for you, Granger, to be able to do so without me in the equation." Malfoy was now standing at his desk; his distaste at the whole state of affairs apparent. He threw his books down, and sat, turning his back on them both without further word.

She chanced a glance at Blaise who simply waved a hand like it was old news.

"Some things never change," Hermione could not help muttering quietly under her breath, resting a hand on her forehead. It was slightly reassuring that despite being the key source for purifying her blood, he could still treat her like old news.

"I would say a lot has changed, Granger."

He had heard her? How was that even possible? Hermione shot her head up and looked straight into the cool grey eyes of the Head Boy. She opened her mouth to speak, but he simply turned his head back to the front of the room before she had the chance to formulate any response. Where was her biting remark?

Frowning, Hermione leaned back in her chair. Now level with Blaise, she sent him another questioning look. Were those two not talking...again?

He merely shook his head before Professor Snape walked into the room.

Hermione held her breath as she watched him scan the room with calculated thought. His eyes landed on hers briefly. "I think we are due for a rotation," he said slowly.

The class groaned. She did not like the sound of that one bit.

"Students on the left side of the work benches, move to the desk in front."

More groans ensued.

Hermione blanched. Was Snape trying to play some twisted joke on her?

Blaise sent her a consoling look as she stood and grabbed her things. She walked around her desk, dumped her books with an inconsiderate thud at her new spot, just as Malfoy had done earlier, and reluctantly took the empty seat next to Malfoy. She made sure she was as far away from him as possible. She could almost feel Malfoy rolling his eyes at the whole ordeal.

"You will be brewing a memory enhancing potion. We will be testing it," Snape continued.

Hermione's hand shot up. She heard Malfoy groan next to her.

"You have a question, Miss Granger?"

She was slightly surprised by his apparent amusement. "Professor, will we be testing the memory potion with our partner?"

The smirk forming on his face said it all. "Yes, Miss Granger. That is the normal practice."

The class sniggered. Little did they realise that Hermione was more concerned about the type of memory the potion would elicit, especially given the kinds that her and Malfoy now shared. The receding effect on certain memories that Snape's purifying potion encouraged was not something she wanted to test. This wasn't the reception she expected from Snape. After all, she had provided a Slytherin nominee for Head Boy. Surely that accounted for something?

"Scared the potion will enhance an explicit memory, Granger?" she heard Malfoy say in a low voice for her ears only.

She didn't reply.

"If anyone asks me again what page the potion can be found on in your books I will not hesitate to grant the whole class detention. You should be well read in NEWT level theory."

Hermione opened her book to page 253. She had it marked a while back when they had to write an essay on all potions that affected memories. If only they were able to brew the memory inhibitor. She sighed. Avoiding Malfoy was no longer possible.

For the first time since sitting next to her new potions partner she turned to look at him. He slowly turned his head to meet her gaze. It took all her energy to mask her unease. "So, I suppose you want to get the ingredients?" she asked. She figured that since Blaise always had a thing about going to the store room, Malfoy was much the same.

"Best you do it. I might pummel the double crossing snake sitting behind me," he replied, his tone one of pure distaste at the prospect of being made to go there. The strange thing was, none of it was directed at her.

Hermione was simply bewildered. "Excuse me?"

"Just get the ingredients, Granger. I'm not about to chit chat with you about it here." He ran a hand thought his hair and leant back in his chair.

Did that mean he would tell her at some point? Confused and unable to read into Malfoy's intentions, she stood up without further word and made her way to the ingredients storeroom nearest to her. Naturally, Blaise was in there.

"Snape is really twisted," Blaise said when he spotted her entering.

"It's certainly far from ideal." Hermione replied. "You would think he'd want me as far away from Malfoy as possible after all that's happened. I just... don't get it."

"Punishment for having to work overtime?"

"It's certainly sadistic." Hermione sighed as she collected the last of what she needed and walked to the door.

"Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She looked over at him. "It's fine. I haven't been myself."

"We didn't get a chance to discuss things properly. You free later?" he asked.

She nodded gingerly. "Fourth floor classroom after dinner?"

"See you there."

Back at her new workstation, Hermione's new partner, Malfoy, had started on the basics and had the cauldron going and the liquids boiling. His pensive expression caught her attention. She didn't know whether to ask about it or make some snide comment since _he_ wasn't playing the part of the difficult partner. Surely enough, she couldn't bring herself to interrupt whatever train of thought he was involved in and just set all the ingredients on the table.

"Just in time for the _Screechsap_," he said suddenly.

She looked at him, surprised. Normally she was the one guiding the process. Then again, Malfoy had been working alone for the most of the year.

"Sometime today would be good, Granger."

Hermione blinked. "Right." She counted five and dropped them in as he stirred. She watched, mesmerised as the liquid change colour. They worked in a silent discomfort – an undercurrent of all things unsaid circling the air around them.

"Five minutes!" the Professor called. "You will bottle what you have done now and add the final ingredient in the next class."

Hermione reached for the empty flask at the same time Malfoy did. His hand brushed over hers and she retracted it in fear – it was the most ridiculous reflex reaction she had ever had.

"I've got it," he said, ignoring her reaction.

She nodded, rubbing her hand with the other, trying to come to terms with the fact that his touch was like any other, a fleeting thing with no trigger effect. Then again, was that lingering tingling feeling in her arm supposed to be normal if she was cured? She ignored it, focusing on packing her things and getting out of there as soon as possible.

She turned behind her to see if Blaise was still about. He rolled his eyes as his new Slytherin partner, Tracey Davis, struggled with the stopper. She smiled – chancing a glance back at Malfoy who was labelling their potion for storage.

"Granger, stop making eyes at the prick behind you." Malfoy muttered.

That was the second time that he had startled her with some comment about his housemate. She turned to him. "What has Blaise done to you other than _help_ you?" she asked.

He grabbed the flask by the neck and placed it on top of her books. "Take this to Snape." His eyes locked with hers before he let it go, grabbed his stuff and walked out without further word.

His eyes sparked with a hidden fury that muted any attempt for a retaliating comment.

Hermione was not impressed with herself at all.

* * *

That night after dinner, Hermione made her way to the fourth floor. She could see light flickering under the slit in the doorway of the classroom. She walked up, knocking once before letting herself in.

Blaise was sitting on one of the desks, drinking out of bottle. The room looked different. The work bench had been cleared and all the chairs stacked up on the desks that they had used. Their prohibited secret lab was no longer. Hermione walked over and sat on the desk next to him.

He reached for something behind him. "Here. It's the last of it." He handed her a flask.

She stared at the contents – the russet liquid an ominous sign of its raw versatility. It looked quite distinct from the final product Malfoy had given her and she wondered briefly what effects it would induce without the _blue blood_ in it. She quickly quashed the thought.

"I guess it's kind of useless now if you don't have any _blue blood,_ although, I can't say I know what it does in that form."

Hermione looked up at him in surprise - their similar train of thought was uncanny.

"Unless...you want a repeat of facing the unknown," he continued. "But, I think you have a fair idea of the realm of possibilities." He laughed bitterly, taking a swig from his bottle.

Hermione caught the label of his drink. "You're into the 200 year old stuff, too?" she asked. Those Slytherins really did take an extreme approach to everything.

He offered her the bottle. "Didn't pick your for a Firewhisky kind of girl."

Hermione laughed at his misinterpretation. "Can't say I am – it just seems to be popular with you Slytherin boys."

He regarded her with curiosity. "Boys?" His face scrunched up.

Hermione shrugged. "You all act like you are in control; drinking _that_ stuff, thinking that you're mature. Problem is, you can't seem to handle the consequences of your actions," she replied. She didn't mean to discuss her thoughts so openly.

He raised a brow. "Is that you're way of asking me what's going on with Draco and I?" He chuckled.

"Why not," she said, shrugging.

He sighed, taking another sip, shutting his eyes as he swallowed. "Draco is the kind of _boy_ that seems to always have everything work out for him. I guess I didn't expect things to go as far as they did. It all got out of hand," he said, his tone slightly rueful.

Hermione realised she had hit a nerve without even trying, but had little idea on how to proceed. She placed the flask, with its contents just short of being an illegal substance, on the desk next to her and reached for the bottle from Blaise's hold.

Blaise gave her a questioning glance.

"I want to see what all the fuss is about," she replied, bringing it to her lips and slowly tilting it. She carefully took a drink. The hit was instant as the smoothness of its age caught her by surprise. It slid down her throat, a lingering malt flavour satisfying her tastebuds as her insides were warmed. She smiled. "Not bad," she said and handed him the bottle.

"Careful, Granger. Looks like you liked it a little too much for a first timer."

She let out a small laugh. So many firsts had happened in this room. "How exactly did the joke get out of control," she asked cautiously.

"You weren't going to let it go, were you?" Blaise asked.

Hermione shook her head, her eyes lighting up with determination. "I would have thought you knew me a little better by now."

The look he gave her made her stomach freefall. "You really are something, Granger," he said, shaking his head.

"I guess the Head Girl is mostly just a girl," she joked.

He jumped off the table and walked a few steps before turning to face her. "You were never supposed to get mixed up in this mess," he said, his expression regretful.

She didn't know how to interpret his words and so, remained silent. She watched him rub his hands against his forehead in agitation.

"I was just so sick of him getting his way all the time and treating people the way he did...even you."

Hermione watched Blaise start to pace the room. Her gaze wandered to the bottle in his hand – a good third was missing.

"At first ...the whole potion was a bit of fun to give us an edge in Quidditch and a group effort to make sure a Slytherin made it to tryouts for the Puddlemere team at the end of the year." He inhaled. "Then...Draco became really irritating with the whole thing...made it about him. I just- I had enough. You saw how demanding he was that day in the classroom I handed him the flask of the stuff?"

"What are you saying, Blaise?" Hermione asked tentatively.

He stopped pacing and looked at her warily. "I did it on purpose, Hermione."

"Did what?" she asked, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. She hadn't allowed herself to process his verbal declaration.

"The potion, Hermione. After Draco added the _Blue Blood_, I purposely waited a day too long before adding the mandrake pus. I knew the timing of it was crucial, but I just thought it wouldn't work - not that it would draw out the impact of ..." His voice trailed off.

"I think poison is the word you're looking for," Hermione said curtly. She was certain he could see her appal.

His eyes were now pleading. "Hermione, please understand, I had no idea what _Blue Blood _was!"

"You told me it was an accident," she said bitterly, shaking her head, wishing she was more angry than hurt.

"That's why I told him I wanted out of it all... and then you- he made you drink it. I needed you to trust me so I could help you."

"So, your interest in me...was that purely out of guilt?" Hermione was about to be sick.

"No! Of course not," he replied, stepping forward, but then realising it was probably best to keep his distance.

"But, you...the potion made me attracted- I mean, we-"She couldn't even finish the sentece.

"I liked- I _like_- you, Hermione. I wanted out of the contest so I could...ask you out. The properly brewed potion in my system gave me the normal effect of having courage to act on my feelings for you...but, I took advantage of your side effects- the situation - and for that...I'm sorry."

Hermione was having a hard time digesting everything he was saying. The rush of blood to her ears drowned out any coherent thought as she leaned against the desk for support. Her mind was clouded with a million scenarios and questions.

Blaise seemed to find her silence unsettling. What was he expecting - her to hex him? What difference would it make?

"Hermione..._please_-"

"Don't!" She bit out, jumping off the desk and walking toward him, promptly taking the bottle of Firewhisky from his hold to help appease her propagating emotions. She took a large gulp, letting her head fall right back. She swallowed, shutting her eyes as the liquid distilled her hyperbolic state. She looked at him with hardened eyes. "Do you realise you are responsible for my ending up in the hospital wing?" she asked, her voice cold. 'Do you realise you are responsible for my having feelings for Malfoy on some sick and twisted level?' she wanted to yell.

He nodded, his mouth tightening.

"I don't think you _really_ know what you have put me through with Malfoy. What I've _done! _What the repercussions are?"

"You told me about you and him-

"_That_ is just the by-product." She laughed. The irony of it was too much. "After that admission, why on earth would you be annoyed with me for not telling you to stop brewing-" She turned and waved a hand to gesture at the flask he had given her earlier.

"It was just my way of distancing myself. But, after we talked, I realised... I miss _this_- _you_- and it was eating at me –

"So, really, you are only admitting to it to make yourself feel better? That's why you haven't bothered to be my friend since I have been _cured._"

"That's not true, Hermione."

She didn't care...it was how she felt. And, it...hurt. "Malfoy hates you, you know, and I- I don't know if I can trust you again."

"Malfoy has no reason to hate me. If it wasn't for me, he would have never realised his-" Blaise suddenly stopped speaking.

"His what?" Hermione shot back.

"I can't –

"Don't give me that _fucking_ Slytherin vagueness and expect me to accept it!" She had never sworn at Blaise and she could see that he was taken aback. 'Good,' she thought.

"Trust me, I would –

"Poor word choice, Blaise." She gave him an unimpressed look.

He took a deep breath. "I'm bound by the Oath of Ancestry. It's a... pureblood thing...I actually _can't_ speak about it," he said apologetically.

Hermione stared back at him in disbelief – not at his tiring inability to reveal another piece to the puzzle, but at her own stupidity for not seeing it coming.

Hermione sighed and walked back to the desk, leaning against it and bringing the bottle to her lips.

At that moment, she really hated Slytherin.

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AN: Well...there you have it! Lots happened...love to hear your thoughts! xxx


	36. Chapter 36

**AN: A huge thankyou to everyone who reviewed! Really appreciate your thoughts and it was great to read about your reactions to the events! Inspired me to get cracking with the next chapter and...well, here it is ! **

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Hermione was now drunk off her tree as she wandered the hallways back to the Head digs. She had polished off the next third of the bottle before Blaise had mustered the courage to approach her and take it off her.

It was her fault, really. She had pushed him away at first, calling him a few names she couldn't quite remember, but knowing he deserved it for what he'd done – he had remained silent during her dramatic outbursts – and then, when she had least expected, he had somehow swept the bottle out of her hold.

"I should walk you back," he had said.

She had proceeded to yell at him for trying to act like he cared when all he wanted was to get in her pants.

It was his turn to be unimpressed and he walked out of the classroom without further word, taking the almost empty bottle of Firewhisky with him.

Hermione knew she would regret taking that line of argument with him in the morning as she approached the Knight's portrait. Somehow, she slurred the password at one amused Knight and finally found herself standing in the fire lit common room. She couldn't quite believe she had made it.

Hermione kicked off her shoes and began to remove her school jumper. It was halfway over her head when she heard someone clear their throat.

She froze for a moment before pulling it all the way off. Through her now unobstructed line of sight – though slightly blurred – she found herself peering at Malfoy, who had sat up on the red couch. The striking contrast of the furniture against his skin and hair reminded her of boiled candy. He must have been lying down in front of the fire when she walked in.

For a moment, Hermione had completely forgotten he was back. '_Wow, I really am drunk,' _she mused. Not to mention, she felt rather awkward at that point.

"Um... I'll just be-" She pointed toward her door rather haphazardly. Well, the general direction was right.

His appraising stare was quite discomforting and she held it briefly, trying to catch her bearings. Her head was spinning a little _too_ much. Slowly, she bent down to collect her shoes and pile them on top of her jumper in the crook of her arm.

He was still watching her when she stood up and exhaled a breath at the effort.

"Well, g'night," she said, and proceeded to walk toward her bedroom. She stood at her door, struggling to coordinate the hold on her things while attempting to free the door open. Unforgiving to her state, she lost a shoe in the process. It fell with a soft thud as the door creaked loose. "Shit," she muttered and moved to pick it up. The other shoe slipped out of her hold. "Bloody hell," she huffed.

"Are you drunk?"

"Huh?" Hermione pushed the door wide, grabbed both shoes and threw them into her room with a little too much force before turning around to face him. She was standing in her doorway: her jumper in hand, her hair falling out of its hold.

He was smirking.

"No!" She realised she hadn't defended herself yet. "It's a school night!" Her face scrunched up at the realisation.

He stood up off the couch and walked across toward her.

What are you doing?" she asked carefully. Either a gnawing sense of unease was culminating in the pit of her stomach or she was feeling queasy.

His calculated stare was a little too disconcerting. "I dunno, Granger, you look a little...off...balance," he said as he approached her door.

Hermione stepped back into her room. She was now on one side of the door frame, and he on the other. Though she moved to shut the door, his quick reflexes and her impeded response time left little room for a successful shut in. His hand came up and held it in its place.

"Distinctly malt," he said with observation.

"What?"

He grinned – his eyes sparkling with an amusement of sorts. "You reek of Firewhisky, Granger."

"Can you take your hand off my door, Malfoy?" she replied impatiently, swallowing the excess of saliva in her mouth. She was going to be sick.

"Not the cheap stuff, either," he continued, a veritable certainty about him.

"Malfoy, I didn't nominate to have you back as Head boy so I can have you antagonise me in this way. Now, move!" She hadn't realised what she'd said, but the sudden change in his expression cued her awareness. Hermione pulled her guard up, ready to defend herself... or throw up.

"You _nominated_ me?" he asked, unabashed surprise on his face. "Care to explain?"

"I didn't." She lied. "And, no," she added definitively.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why would you want me back, Granger?" He leant closer. "Haven't you had enough of me?" His eyes sparkled with curiosity, attracting her gaze to his eyes. She stared at them, stunted by her inebriation, and yet, mesmerized.

"Oh, I've had enough of you." Her response was laced with innuendo. She had no idea why she replied in that way. Oh, yes, she was drunk.

He seemed to tense slightly and stood tall, bringing his hand away.

She didn't notice that she was free to shut her door on him.

"Whatever it is, Granger, let it go."

She blinked. "Who are you trying to convince?" she found herself asking.

"Get some rest, Granger." The finality in his tone was enough to rile her.

"Why do you do that?" she asked with exasperation. Her stomach churned with the ominous threat that it was about to reject its contents.

"Do what?" he asked.

Oh, there it was: the telling sign that her stomach had made up its mind as the bile rose. Without replying, Hermione slammed her door to save face and ran to the bathroom.

It was no ordinary school night.

* * *

Slumped over her breakfast, Hermione wished for silence. The noise level only inflamed her throbbing head.

"Owls interrupting your sleep too, Hermione?" Ron asked. He chuckled.

She waved him off. "It's my own fault. But I know how Harry must be feeling." She groaned, resting her head in her hand as her elbow leant on the table. She could hardly eat and her stomach swam with all the liquid she had drunk to quench her dehydration.

"I think he slept alright yesterday. Not as much activity."

She eyed him curiously through tired eyes. "What d'you mean?"

"He exercised his Captain authority and made us all do a round of bird watching while he slept. Think they're onto him, those owls. I didn't see or hear anything."

No wonder he was amused.

Hermione smiled at Harry's solution. He must really have been sleep deprived to abuse his Captain status. "Well, I guess, you can thank your lucky stars he won't ask you to do it again, then," she reasoned.

"I suppose..." He seemed distracted. "Uh...Hermione, I think you should know that Malfoy is heading this way," Ron said.

Hermione turned to confirm his observation. Malfoy was indeed heading toward her. She buried her face in her palms and exhaled.

"Granger, a word."

"Go away," she muttered, her voice muffled by her hands.

"Well, good morning to you, too."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron piped. "Hermione's not well, and you just made it worse."

"Has she told you why, Weasley?" she heard Malfoy sneer.

"Why all the concern, Malfoy?" Ron questioned, his tone accusing.

That was her cue to comply with his request. The cunning prat. "It's okay, Ron." She lifted her face to look at him, patting his arm reassuringly. "Malfoy's on probation, so he has to make an effort to be civil with me." She made sure she was loud and clear so everyone in the vicinity was aware of why Malfoy was standing around the Gryffindor table. Several students had stolen glances in their direction to see what all the fuss was about.

Ron rolled his eyes and finally nodded, accepting her explanation.

She moved out of her seat on the bench and stood to face Malfoy. He was not amused by her announcement. "Really, Granger? Was that necessary?" he asked.

"Can we take this elsewhere?" she replied, ignoring him.

"No, I think you've just excused any uncommon civility I might extend to you so let's just have it out here." He reached into his robe pocket.

She gave him a warning glare. "Malfoy..." She watched him pull out a vial. "What are you–"

"Drink this. I hear it does wonders for hangovers." He held it out for her to take, smirking with victory.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror, and she heard Ron splutter his juice from behind her.

"I went to all the effort, Granger, and you're not happy?"

"Stop...just stop_,_" she bit out, pushing past him and walking toward the doors. She was mortified, not to mention livid.

Outside in the hallway she leant against the stone wall and breathed. A few moments later, she saw the Great Hall's doors open and Malfoy step out. He looked over at her, an impenetrable expression on his face.

"You came over to give me _that_?" she asked incredulously, standing straight.

"You made a scene, Granger," he said coolly. "I'm not going to stand there and let you make excuses to your insipid housemates at my expense."

"I made a scene? What else am I supposed to tell Ron when you feel the need to start a conversation with him?"

"I was trying to make you move, Granger. You're the one that insisted on qualifying my presence with some pathetic lie."

"What? That's not the point. What the hell are you thinking? Bringing me a potion and then announcing it's for hangovers! Are you out of your _mind_?"

She was met with a hard stare. "You know, Granger. If you can't handle a sign of gratitude, then your reasons for agreeing to have me back as Head Boy must really be _fucking _twisted."

"Gratitude? Is that what you're calling it?" Hermione was in disbelief. "More like a slap in the face!"

"Right, well, if you ever decide to get off your ridiculous notions of self-preservation, you might get a clue."

Hermione scrunched up her face. He was not making sense and in her tired state, she did not have the energy to read into his pseudo-psychology. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked testily.

"It's all you, Granger. You expect me to act a certain way – like I did. You're comfortable with that. I can't change in your eyes until you open them. Well, let me tell you something, Granger, admitting things have changed is a lot different to acting like they have. "

"So you bring me a hangover potion to make a point?"

He rolled his eyes in frustration. "Why do you always ask questions?" he said with agitation.

"You still treat me the same way! Please, enlighten me, Malfoy. What has changed?" She

"Forget it, Granger." He started to walk away.

She wasn't having it. In her angered state, which seened to extinguish all awkwardness she felt around him lately, Hermione raced forward and grabbed hold of his arm.

"Still eager for a touch?" He tilted his head in mock inquiry.

"No," she replied simply. She tugged at his arm so he would turn around and face her. "You're no longer in control of me, Malfoy. You can't just expect me to do what you want, when you want. What about what I want?"

A wicked grin graced his lips. "Oh, really?" he asked, taking hold of her arm and pushing her back against the wall. He leaned forward. "_What_ do you want, Granger?" he whispered.

Hermione inhaled. She had not been this close to Malfoy since- well, since just before she had taken Snape's purifying potion.

The heat of his hold triggered memories of their closeness. She dismissed them. "Answers," she said, relieved that she managed to sound unaffected.

He let go of her, but stood close, his gaze fixed on her with heated determination. She felt his eyes scan her face, and fall to her lips. She pursed them reflexively. "They're staring you in the face and you're blind to them, Granger. You need to know where to _look_." His hand came down to grab hold of hers.

Hermione recoiled at his touch. There was no building pressure driving an uncontrollable desire for lustful contact; like the kind she had succumbed to under the potion. Instead, there was a hitch in her breath as a tingling sensation shot through her arm - just like it had in the previous day in Potions. He brought her hand up and opened her palm, letting it face upward, and she felt something cool touch against her skin.

He let go.

Hermione looked down at the glass vial in her hand and stared up at him questioningly. Her irate state was suddenly abated – trumped with confusion.

Malfoy was once again composed and unreadable. "It's just a hangover potion, Granger. Thought you could do with it. I figure, after everything... and being Heads... we should look out for one another... now and then." He shrugged and stepped back.

She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

"No questions?" he jibed. The beginnings of a crooked smile spread across his lips, although he turned away quickly before she could see any real reaction, leaving a slack jawed Hermione staring at his retreating form.

* * *

There was no denying that Hermione had drunk Malfoy's peace offering of sorts – although, certainly not before testing it several times for any traces of poison – and she was definitely quietly thankful for it. Not only had the gesture thrown her completely off guard, it had left a lingering sense of uncertainty in its wake. His words were on repeat as she sat in class, half listening to the Professors drone on from one topic to the next.

That night, she felt the need to visit her library. She entered quietly and shut the door, looking about the room as the candles flickered into activity. Hermione leant against the door. Her gazed lingered over the tapestry and she felt compelled to walk over to it.

She stared at the look alike Malfoy. He was as still as ever, with that ominous phrase on the piece of parchment tucked into his hand. She exhaled loudly, letting the sigh escape her lips. So much had transpired and yet, not one single thread of the mystery behind the tapestry had come undone.

Now that she stood in the silence of the space with a clearer head, with the knowledge of her recent reading and musings following Blaise's confession, it seem plausible that Rose Malfoy was at the very centre of a family secret. Hermione sat down on the rug, pensively regarding the figures. Her gaze wandered to the dark haired man next to Malfoy's doppelganger. His solemn gaze gave away a discerning scrutiny that only someone familiar to the other figure could possess.

Lying flat on her back, Hermione's head hurt at trying formulate links between the fragments of information that she had accrued. If the tapestry was any reflection of reality, then the other figure was also a likeness of someone real. That, and the familiarity in the gaze meant that whoever he was, he knew Malfoy, which in turn, mean that Malfoy knew him, or at the very least, of him.

She was giving herself a headache.

Sitting up finally, Hermione made her way to the bookshelves to get on with her initial intention. She reached up to disturb the home of _Magical Enlightenment: Heightening your sensory perception._ It was the book that had first introduced her to the _etat d'esprit _and she vaguely remembered reading something that could help Harry.

Hermione set the book down at the desk and flicked to the index. She scanned through it until her gaze settled on _barricading unwanted sensory reception. _She smiled. At least her library was still useful for something.

* * *

Much to Harry's surprise, Hermione pulled him aside before they entered the Charm's classroom the next day.

"What 's so important you can't just tell me in class? We sit together, in case you've forgotten," he reminded.

"It's about your sleeping problem," she said.

"Hermione, ever heard of _Muffliato_?"

She rolled her eyes. "There won't be time for that. I think it's you who's forgotten. We have our practical test, today."

Harry's eyes widened. "Shit! I thought it was next week."

"Sleep deprivation can do that to you."

"I tried to sort it out, Hermione, but I can't have the Quidditch team keeping watch forever!"

"So, it's still bad?" she asked.

He nodded.

She pulled the piece of parchment she had tucked into one of her books. "Here, this should help".

He took it from her and unfolded it, glancing at its contents before lifting his head with surprise.

"It should solve your problem, but it will make you deaf to all sound."

"_Surditus?"_ he read out.

Hermione nodded. "Cast in on yourself before bed. And, maybe let the others know not to creep up on you." She smiled.

He sighed with relief. "Thanks, Hermione, you're a life saver, you know that?" His warm gaze lingered.

Hermione shrugged. "Don't think it will get you out of the test," she replied sympathetically.

"Flitwick will probably let me re-sit, anyway."

"Now who's abusing their Captain status?" she asked as they walked into class.

* * *

That night, Hermione sought out the Head Boy. She was growing impatient with her idling and after his offer of gratitude that came with those critical words, she figured he was open to her company on some level. The fact that she had to convince herself of this was unsettling enough. "Have you seen Malfoy?" Hermione asked the Knight in the portrait after she searched the Head digs only to find it empty.

"Ah, yes. Not too long ago. The young Slytherin seemed in a rush. Lost a few quills on the way muttering something about being overworked. He's gone a bit soft since his previous reign. "

Hermione frowned. They were coming up to their practice NEWT assessments; perhaps he was finally feeling the brunt of his extra-curricular activities. She knew what that felt like.

"Thank you, Sir."

"My pleasure, Miss. Lovely to see you in good spirits, again," the Knight added. She wasn't sure if that was in reference to her drunken entry a few nights ago.

"Uh, thanks," she replied.

There was only one other place Hermione figured Malfoy would take his quills.

"You know who the other figure in the tapestry is, don't you?" He was hiding in the far most corner of the library where other students rarely sat to do homework as the lighting was rather poor. He hadn't seen her coming until she placed her hands on the desk and leant forward.

Malfoy looked up from his open books. She saw a flicker of surprise cross his features as he straightened up. "What are you talking about?" he asked, dipping his quill into his ink bottle.

"The tapestry... you know, in the room...on the fourth floor?" she pressed.

He sat back in his chair. "You mean the one in your little private library?" He tweaked a brow.

"Yes," she replied curtly.

"The one facing my look-alike?"

"Yes." She sent him a look of reproach for his deferring questions.

"No, I don't know him." He tapped his quill against the bottle to rid the excess ink.

She sent him a baleful glare. "Why prolong the answer, then?" she shot back.

"You know I like to see you suffer for a laugh."

"You've got to be joking," she muttered, pushing her hands off the table and turning to walk away. She had no time for his games.

"Granger... wait!" he spoke out.

She petulantly turned around.

"No need to be touchy, Granger. Take a seat." He gestured to the seat opposite him.

"First hangover cures, then invitations to sit with you while you're doing homework?" she asked, tilting her head. It was almost too much.

"Suit yourself," he replied, turning back to his work. Silence, except for the scratch of his quill against the parchment, surrounded them.

Against her better judgment, she pulled the chair out and sat. It was strange being in the library without any books in front of her and sitting with Malfoy only added to her discomfort. But if it meant getting him to talk, then she'd learn to deal with it, and _him._

"So..." she started. He hadn't said a word since his prompt for her to hang about.

"So, you took it, then?"

She furrowed in confusion.

"The hangover potion?" he egged on.

"Answer my question first." Hermione crossed her arms.

Malfoy put his quill down and leant forward.

She waited, watching him. It had been a while since she had looked at him properly without any distraction and now, sitting directly opposite him, he did look different. Somehow... he looked even more self assured, if that were even possible. With his shirt sleeves rolled up and the ink blotches on his hands, he was oddly alluring.

A telling smirk crossed his mouth and, as Hermione stared at him expectantly, waiting for a reply, she noticed even _that_ was altered: it was edged with a playfulness that overshadowed his customary cockiness.

"Say I did recognise a resemblance to someone I knew, then what?"

Hermione huffed. "I would ask who?"

"Well, if you admit you took the hangover potion, I would tell you."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I much prefer being hangover free," she replied.

His eyes sparkled. "In that case, I would say that he looks very much like my family's Healer."

Hermione was quiet, a current of assumptions flooding her mind. "Did you consult him to deal with the side effects?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"He's dead."

Hermione's looked at him, confused. "Dead?"

He nodded while fiddling with the feather on his quill. He glanced across at her. "Look, whatever conclusions you are trying to reach, you will be way off the mark."

"Blaise has kind of guided me in the right direction."

The eyes fixed on her narrowed. "Has he mentioned he is a backstabbing sod?"

"If you mean, did he tell me about his non-accidental potion brewing mistake, then yes, he did."

His mouth twisted into a sly smirk. "You got drunk with him yesterday, didn't you?"

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it again. Whatever explanation she gave, it would not deter from the fact that she did get drunk. "It wasn't planned."

"Wrong. Everything with Zabini is planned."

"I chose to drink."

"He supplied the drink, didn't he?"

"It doesn't matter," Hermione dismissed. "I don't want to talk about Blaise."

"So he hit a nerve." Malfoy replied, dropping his quill and leaning forward. "Just admit it, Granger. It's his entire fault you and I ended up the way we did."

Hermione shook her head. "He didn't know."

Malfoy slammed his hands down on the desk and leant forward. "Fuck, Granger. You're defending him?" Despite his outburst, Hermione could tell he was restraining himself so that no one would overhear.

"No, I'm not. I just don't see what good it will do to blame him after the fact. Not even you knew what you were getting yourself into brewing a potion like that."

Malfoy crossed his arms and sent her an accusing glare. "You fucked him, didn't you?"

Hermione's eyes widened like saucers. "How dare you –"

"Fine, you slept with him."

"You're repulsive." Hermione stood up. His temerity only emphasised her need to end this conversation. How had it even got to this when all she did was come to ask him about the tapestry?

"C'mon, Granger. You're just trying to assuage his faults so that you don't feel so guilty for letting him get in your pants. Must be a girl thing."

He didn't flinch at the outrage written all over her face. Hermione 's ears were ringing with an onlsaught of fury. "I'll have you know, Malfoy... that- that the only guilt eating away at me is that I let you have me first." Her eyes were stinging with tears that wanted to escape as she watched blankness sketch across Malfoy's face. He switched off from her just as she wanted to scream at him for everything.

"You haven't changed at all," she grit out, her voice surprisingly controlled as she suppressed her rage, turning her back to the Slytherin as soon as she felt a tear ready to escape.

She was the one who had changed. And, not necessarily for the better.

* * *

A/N: Poor Hermione! Insufferable Draco! Gosh! lol xxx


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Firstly, I apologies a zillion times over for my delayed update. It's been a crazy few months...and this has been half written for a while. I finally got my act together and am back on board. I have been on a rampage with writing and have even finally updated _A Cognitive Dissonance. _As it happens, final film of HP is out this week. No, I did not plan it this way...:p **

**Of course, a massive revelation at the end of this chapter...lmk your thoughts! xoxox**

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It was from sheer willpower that Hermione managed to front up to Potions after her tumultuous encounters with both Slytherins in the space of a few days. One was a manipulative liar, and the other, well... a manipulative liar with antagonistic tendencies.

She had shifted her chair as far away from Malfoy as possible, so that when he finally graced the classroom with his presence, he could not miss the fact that she was not happy to be there. She sat waiting, formulating ways to avoid testing the potion the Professor was expecting them to finish today. After her most recent exchange with Malfoy, the last thing she wanted to do was swap memories. It was undeniably cringe worthy, and despite knowing it would come to this, experiencing it was just horrid. Her intimacies with both Slytherins had simply created fuel for more tainted verbal spats. Go figure. Gone were the days of innocent arms length insults. It was all about making each other suffer for their uncontrollable indiscretions – a clear sign that none of them could handle it maturely.

Hermione just wanted to escape the Castle and never return, rather than see Blaise or Malfoy in the same room together ever again. Time, and the grace of hindsight, just made it worse. Her recollections of telling Blaise that he just wanted to 'get in her pants' and Malfoy that she regretted him having her 'first' was downright embarrassing. What level headed Head Girl went around voicing such thoughts let alone allowed for circumstances to create them? Not to mention, she was having all these weird reactions around Malfoy lately and she couldn't even attribute them to a side-effect.

She was tyring her hardest to ignore them.

Hermione suddenly noticed the body sitting next to her. She wasn't sure how long he'd been there but the recognition of his presence was instant. It was the like a bolt of lightning striking her senses back to reality as the familiar scent of Malfoy hit her nostrils and she turned her head to see him looking at her with glacial eyes. Her flushing cheeks gave her away – she had been thinking about him while he was sitting there. She narrowed her eyes in defence and turned her head to the front of the room.

The next thing Hermione noticed was Blaise swiftly enter the classroom. She inwardly groaned and glanced down so that he would not catch her gaze. Malfoy was right – as much as she despised herself for admitting it – she had tried to excuse Blaise's behaviour because she had fallen for his charm. The sour taste in her mouth from agreeing with Malfoy, for a change, did not deter from the fact that Blaise was ultimately the catalyst for the whole situation leading to her near loss of magic. Not to mention, he had played her for selfish reasons. If Hermione really thought about it – and she had been thinking a lot about it – it was worse than Malfoy's conduct. At least Malfoy had not deferred from his usual self during the whole affair. He had consistently acted like a prat driven by potion riddled angst.

But then why did she have that niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach that hinted at an overarching long term implication?

Professor Snape sauntered into the room, interrupting her unfruitful contemplations with his laconic demeanour. "Do you all require an invitation to continue with your work from last class?" Well, he was in a great mood – almost as great as Hermione's. Her lips twitched at his address. No one moved.

"Miss Granger, do you think this is a funny?"

Hermione almost fell off her seat. "No, Professor," she replied hesitantly, wondering how he had even noticed.

"Detention."

"What?" She could not help her incongruous outburst.

"You wish to debate the matter?"

Hermione was about to speak up when she felt a foot hit her shin. Outraged at both Snape and the fact that Malfoy had just kicked her under the table, she just shook her head, tightening her lips to avoid causing a scene.

"See me after class." He turned to the front of the room, pointing his wand to open the cupboard which housed all their unfinished potions. "Now, get to work."

Hermione huffed, remaining unmoved, and crossed her arms in an effort to control her rising indignation. She should not have bothered turning up to class in the first place and her misplaced defiance was now affecting her work ethic.

She heard Malfoy shift from his seat with weighed reluctance as he headed toward the cupboard to collect their potion.

"It's his way of asking you to stay back," he said as he set the potion down in the middle of their work bench.

Hermione turned her eyes to him impatiently. "Look, I don't care what you think, Malfoy."

"I don't care if you don't care. I'm just telling you," he said, setting their potion up in the cauldron to heat it for the final ingredients.

"Don't feel the need to entertain me with your thoughts."

He rolled his eyes. "You forget, Granger. We have to share a memory at the end of this."

"I refuse."

"You refuse."

"Yes."

He sent her an irritated glare. "Why do you get to decide?"

"It would be a welcome change," Hermione spat, letting her arms fall free. She stood up.

"Now who's being immature?" he replied.

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"Well that's refreshing," she heard him mutter. Hermione could feel Malfoy's lingering stare on her back as she stood up and approached the Professor's desk.

"Miss Granger, detention is not negotiable." He did not shift his attention from his work.

"I would like to be excused from class, Professor."

Reluctantly, he turned his attention to her; his face holding an expression of mild amusement. "On what grounds? Surely, Mr. Malfoy is not causing any problems. After all, you did prefer that he return as Head Boy over another nominee." He seemed to be enjoying himself.

Hermione stifled a snort. Of course he would use that line of argument. "I can only assume that my sudden partnering with Draco Malfoy was a sign of gratitude for Slytherin maintaining its Head student representative."

"Careful, Miss Granger, one could easily interpret that as sarcasm." He smirked.

Hermione gave a tired shrug. "I am not trying to disguise it."

"While I don't have to explain myself to you, you might wish to think beyond the superficial, Miss Granger. Imagine if you remained partnered with Mr. Zabini. How do you think he would respond to your deepest memories should the potion attract any of them? Think of it as gratitude in your best interests."

What _was _he on about? At that moment, it dawned on Hermione that Snape was ignorant of the extent of Blaise's involvement. He had made them switch partners to protect her, and Malfoy's, reputation. What could she say without giving that little fact away? She attempted to switch tactics.

"I– I'm concerned that it will... uh, interfere with the purifying potion," she almost whispered. She could tell the Professor was growing impatient.

"See me after class, Miss Granger, and we can discuss any issues then, a_fter_ you have tested your product."

Hermione nodded her reluctant assent and dragged her feet back to her work station. She could see that Malfoy had busied himself with completing it and she just stood at the end of the desk idly, not wishing to have to speak to Malfoy. Her eyes shifted to Blaise, catching him staring at her. Hermione could see he was in a foul mood.

"Well, did you get your way?" she heard Malfoy ask.

"Let's just get this over with," she dismissed, falling onto her stool with a thud.

"Your unruly hair is finally good for something, Granger. Kindly pull out a strand of that frizz and throw it in, will you?"

Hermione glared at him as she silently complied, combing her fingers through her hair to catch a loose strand. He did the same and she waited for him to drop it in before she let hers go over the cauldron. Malfoy stirred twice while she watched it dissolve.

He dipped the small dropper into the pot and coaxed the liquid into the glass before picking up an empty vial and squeezing the contents into it. It was a clear liquid, except for a silvery-cobalt swirl that showed itself in the right light. He handed the vial with its contents to her and repeated the steps for himself.

He looked over at her and shrugged. "Well...bottoms up, Granger."

Hermione drew her head back, closing her eyes as she tipped the surprisingly cool contents into her mouth.

She heard the distant clatter of glass as her head lolled forward and a cloak of heavy fatigue engulfed her - her eyelids dropping as a flash of red light hit the back of her eyes and invaded her lids. Hermione flinched at the sudden sensory overload as she felt the invasion of something foreign. A flash of blackness and then suddenly, a whirlwind of images flooded her eyes and she found herself sifting through a haze. She concentrated harder, trying to make sense of the unfolding images until the fogginess cleared and she found herself starting at...herself.

She could see someone carrying her and whoever's point of view she was seeing it from was walking alongside - the light from the wand guiding them down the dark corridor. She was limp, unconscious, in the arms of...Blaise. Not only could she see the events of the night from Malfoy's perspective, she felt a wave of panic overcome her and ...fear. Were they his emotions?

The scene faded and she found herself in a bedroom – Malfoy's bedroom? Yes, it was Malfoy's bedroom. It was the night she had slept in his bed. She could see herself asleep. Malfoy was watching her sleep? A hand came out pulling a stand of her hair and watching it spring back as the urge to touch took over. He had fought it by getting up and taking a shower.

And then she saw herself staring back at Malfoy with a look she had never thought she could give anyone. It was one of utter...pleasure. He had her pushed against the wall in her bathroom – and she could feel the mixture of pleasure and triumph that had engulfed him – before the scene switched to him standing in front of her door as she slammed it in his face. He looked down at the book in his hands – she could now see that it was the one she had given to him – and could feel his anger at her abate as surprise and intrigue took over at what lay beneath the cover.

She was now sitting in a cold alcove in a silent corner of the castle reading the words from Nott's book through his eyes. _'...blue blood is the essence to the rite of passage of the noble pureblood. You will yield to the right when you are granted permission by the living elder of you blood line.' _

And then she was staring at herself again in her room. Compared to the image of herself looking back, she was much smaller and felt different...in physiology. As she looked about her room, she realised she could turn her head further than normal neck movement warranted. She could almost see the window behind her.

If this was his memory, then why was her memory self was looking back at Malfoy with open curiosity and concern – she never recalled looking at him like that! She watched her hand reach out. Hermione could feel the effect of her own touch as she was washed over with comforting warmth that challenged all sense of reality. It was unsettling, and as she glanced down at where her hand touched, through Malfoy's eyes she saw her hand ruffle ...feathers.

With a force like a blow to the stomach, Hermione was suddenly pushed back and out of the depths of Malfoy's memories into reality.

She blinked, dizziness overcoming her as she grabbed onto the bench to compose herself. She was frozen, muted by what she had seen through Malfoy's eyes. Her eyes widened with every fragment of memory as she processed what she had seen.

Slowly, Hermione turned to see Malfoy staring back at her with such intensity, she had to exhale. "You're an animagus," she barely whispered but he understood.

"You're my curse."

* * *

A/N: So, Malfoy's an animagus. Tell me if you saw that coming! Why is Hermione Malfoy's curse? Hint: words on tapestry and blank contract. More to come!


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: I have updated! So... Hermione's just discovered in the last chapter that Malfoy is in fact an animagus. This just opens up the doors for some explaining. But before we go there, there is the little matter of all the tension and the dynamics between Blaise, Hermione and Malfoy. This was a super fun chapter to write and I hope you enjoy! xx**

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The air was thick around them, loaded with a silence that made the hairs on Hermione's neck stand on end. Either that or she was suffering from some sort of side effect that had her nerve impulses going a little haywire. Her eardrums hummed, creating a veil to the building noise as other pairs tested their potions, retelling their experiences.

"I guess we are at some sort of an impasse," Malfoy finally said.

Hermione remained mute, still digesting the fact that he had successfully become an Animagus while she had almost lost her magic with the same concoction.

"Who approved your transformation?"

He could not mask the mild surprise at her first question. What did he expect, an outburst of fury? "Lucius."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the first name reference. "What does it feel like?"

Malfoy was now verging on amusement at her line of enquiry. "Aren't you more interested in what this means for you?"

Hermione shook her head. "What difference does it make? We've come this far." And it was true. Whatever it was, they were in it together, as much as she hated to admit it.

Draco shrugged. "It gets cold."

It was difficult to conceal the twitch of lips that Hermione felt grace her lips. As much as she wanted to hide it, his tepid response washed away her guard. "I suppose it would."

He gave her a knowing smirk.

The ensuing moment of pensive silence between them was strangely comfortable until all hell broke loose.

"Hermione Granger?" someone questioned so loudly, Hermione heard her name echo through the room.

Hermione turned her head to see a wide eyed Tracey Davis staring back at her like she had been Petrified.

"You!" she screeched, her face twisting into an expression of distaste. The whole class, including Malfoy, shifted their attention to the back of the room.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said. The telling empty vials on the bench top only served to heighten Hermione's worse fear. Her gaze flickered to an enigmatic Blaise who stood stiff, avoiding her eyes.

"I know what I saw," Tracey hissed. Her eyes narrowed. "You and _him?"_

"Me and who?" Hermione asked, tightening her lips. She knew who Tracey meant.

"What a way to promote house unity, Granger. Who would have thought you had it in you." Her snide comment sent a wave of murmurs through the room.

Hermione moved to stand, but Malfoy beat her to it, the legs of his chair scraping against the stone floor as he shot out of his seat. Instead of facing Tracey however, in one swift move, Malfoy had leant over the bench and grabbed Blaise by his robes, pulling him across. She could not believe her eyes.

Gasps shot through the room. "Let him go!" Tracey yelped, leaping forward to grab Blaise's arm.

"What did you put in your potion, Zabini?" Malfoy asked through gritted teeth. Blaise was glaring back with equal hatred.

"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed.

"That's quite enough." In all the commotion, Hermione didn't notice Professor Snape approach the back of the room. He grabbed both Malfoy and Blaise and yanked them apart with arguably a little more force than necessary. "Not in my classroom. Detention. All four of you." The finite tone of his voice reserved no room for comment. "You're doing well today, Miss Granger," he added.

Hermione winced.

"Miss Davis, we don't yelp and screech like a banshee in the middle of class." A few chuckles could be heard around the classroom.

"Silence! The rest of you pack up your things except for your cauldrons. I want a vial of your finished products labelled and on my desk. Homework is a foot long account of the process and your experience of any side effects." Groans circled the room. Hermione turned to start clearing away her workbench.

"Not you, Miss Granger."

Snape stood his ground watching the four of them until the last person cleared out of the room. It was unnerving.

Hermione could feel Snape's agitation at the whole scene as he moved around and picked up the empty vial in front of Tracey and brought it to his nose. He sniffed once and slowly reached over the cauldron, taking the ladle and refilling it with the concoction. He examined the contents before looking at the two students. "What did I ask you to brew Miss Davis, Mr. Zabini?"

"A memory enhancing potion, Professor," Tracey whimpered.

"Who was in charge of adding the ingredients?"

"We both were, Sir."

Hermione carefully watched Blaise as he remained silent, his expression unshaken.

"The potion I asked you to brew should not have a scent to it. This does."

"But we followed the instructions exactly."

"Did you experience a shared memory then, Miss Davis?"

She looked nervous. "No, not exactly. It was something Blaise had seen?" She shot an accusing glance at Hermione.

"Witnessed with his eyes? You were standing in his place in this memory, I presume?"

Tracey nodded.

"And you, Mr. Zabini?"

"Professor, it was a shared memory from Tracey's birthday."

Hermione heard Malfoy scoff. She looked over at him – his arms were crossed and he was glaring at his fellow housemate accusingly.

"The four of you will clean the cauldrons of all your classmates."

Tracey sniffed.

Hermione send her a scathing look. This was all her fault and now she was playing victim.

"Miss Granger, can you please prepare a sample of your potion for my assessment? Your additional detention will take place tomorrow evening."

Hermione nodded, inwardly groaning, and hurried to fill a flask. She sealed it and handed it to Snape.

He took it, a slight smirk gracing his lips. "You have an hour to clean up this mess."

"But, Professor –"

He turned to Tracey. "Not another word," he said. Hermione knew what she was about to say – how could he leave the four of them in a room together given the biting hostility in the air? Funnily enough, she shared the same sentiment.

The moment the four of them were alone, the tension in the air set loose.

"Something you shared at Tracey's birthday?" Malfoy said snidely. "That some way to put it!" He gave a resounding laugh.

Hermione, confused by the target of Malfoy's antagonism, watched Blaise and Tracey for a reaction. Her reddening face said it all. Blaise on the other hand, narrowed his eyes.

"When was you birthday?" Hermione asked out of sheer curiosity, thinking aloud.

Tracey sent her a distasteful scowl. "This isn't about me."

"Shut it, Tracey," Malfoy spat.

"…Said the Slytherin who tainted himself with the Mudblood," she taunted. Her saccharine sweetness had mysteriously evaporated.

"Watch your tongue, Davis." Hermione warned.

"What exactly did you see in Blaise's memory to make you so sure?" Malfoy asked. "Because if you didn't already know – being a Slytherin yourself – he's a fucking calculating snake!"

In an instant blur, Blaise was on Malfoy, pulling him to the ground and, suddenly, they were fighting. Like Muggles!

"What is wrong with you two?" Tracey yelled, nearly in tears.

Hermione could not believe the dramatic repertoire the girl possessed. Her musing were cut short, however, by the sound of Blaise's fist connecting squarely with Malfoy's jaw. "You think you can have it all, Malfoy?" he yelled.

Malfoy groaned, his head rolling back momentarily, giving Blaise enough time to rise to his feet and kick Malfoy in the stomach.

She had never seen Blaise so enraged. "Stop!" Hermione pulled out her wand, pointing it at Blaise. Before she could fire a hex, Malfoy brought his leg in and kicked Blaise in the shin. Hard. Blaise cried out and leaned against the bench for support as Malfoy sat up, coughing and holding his stomach.

"Either of you move an inch and I will hex you both," Hermione threatened.

Tracey was in tears. "I saw _her_ straddling you! How much more evidence do I need?" she cried.

Malfoy shook his head. "You stupid bint," he said between laboured breaths. He was in pain. It didn't take a potion connection to see that.

"Tracey, as much as we don't get along, whatever you saw Malfoy and I doing was false." Hermione said. It had to be. The only time she could recall doing such a thing was in the Head digs, when she had swiped the bottle of Firewhisky from him and then thrown it in the fire. There was no way Blaise could have witnessed it.

"You were in the Slytherin change room," Tracey added between sniffs, "before the game. How could he make that up?"

Hermione froze. She inhaled, looking at Malfoy with questioning eyes. And then realisation hit. But how could Blaise…?

Malfoy was watching her quietly. The room was silent. He had rejected her advances as soon as she had started them, pushing her away in anger. She reaclled speaking to to Blaise only moments before entering the change room to seek out Malfoy who would have had a view of the change room entrance when she had sought to hold up her end of their bargain. He eyes widened as it hit her. Malfoy had spotted Blaise watching them...in action. She cringed.

"You just can't make that shit up," Blaise said.

Hermione lifted her wand. "_Stupefy!"_

Blaise fell to the ground with a thud.

Tracey gave another squeal. "You bitch!"

"_Silencio!"_

Hermione watched in surprise as Tracey mouthed off in silent protest. She sent Malfoy an amused glance.

"She had it coming," he said simply, grimacing as he tried to stand.

"Are you okay?"

"We should clean up," he dismissed.

"Right," Hermione murmured.

"Davis, I swear if you screech like that one more time I will hex you something rotten," Malfoy warned.

Tracey nodded timidly. She was all cried out.

He flicked his wand at her and moved to the front of the room, as far away from them as possible, to start his apparent detention. It was ironic that he had just fought and hexed a housemate while serving it.

Hermione eyed Tracey with trepidation, wondering if she was going to say anything.

"So… do you plan to leave Blaise like that?"

"For now," Hermione replied, turning on her heal and moving to a separate workbench. She reached for the cauldron and pulled it closer.

"It's clean," she said aloud, glancing over at Malfoy to see what he was up to. He seemed to have reached the same conclusion and was sitting, elbows on the bench, his head in his hands.

"Is it supposed to be a secret?"

"Hmm, what?" She shifted her attention to the girl who was now asking questions like they were friends when only moments earlier, she had called her a 'bitch'.

"Because now that I know, I kind of can't believe I haven't noticed it before... because it's so obvious."

Hermione frowned. "What is?"

"You and Draco."

It was like she had just been winded. "Excuse me?" She laughed in disbelief. "Tracey, I know you're playing nice for a reason."

"It just took me by surprise, that's why I went all crazy. I mean, there have been rumours, but to find out it's actually happened…"

Hermione ignored her. "What Blaise let you see was out of context."

"You can't put context into chemistry. He was angry you know... in the memory."

Hermione sat down and sighed. "Look, I'm uncomfortable having this conversation – "

"With a Slytherin girl, I know. Don't worry, I won't tell Daphne."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ok, what do you want?"

Tracey smiled. "Just your reassurance that, should the occasion arise, I can rely on your assistance."

"Could you be more specific?" Hermione raised a brow.

"Fine. I need you to swap my patrol times."

She could read between the lines. "Who do you want?"

"Theo."

"Right. I'll see what I can do."

"I know you will." Tracey said. "Blaise and Draco are really dividing the House. He's using you as a means to drive it further. You should probably know that."

Hermione exhaled.

"Granger!" Hermione turned to see Malfoy tilt his head toward the classroom clock. "You better release Zabini," he said reluctantly.

They had five minutes.

Hermione walked over to where Blaise was lying on the floor. She kneeled down, her eyes fixed on his displeased expression. "I don't know why you felt the need to do that. You can't apologise and then use me to fuel your personal vendetta," she said in a low voice.

Whether he reacted to her words, she couldn't tell. "_Finite_."

His whole body relaxed, and he breathed, closing his eyes.

"Why did you follow me into the change rooms that day?"

"Curiosity." He shrugged, sitting up, running a hand through his thick hair. "It's not every day that a Gryffindor gets off with a Slytherin. I should know." He smiled – a twisted, amused sort of smile.

"Friends don't talk about each other like that." Hermione stood up, looking down at him.

"You can't be friends with both of us. And, clearly you've made your decision." He lifted himself up off the floor. "It was nice while it lasted, Granger. You ever hex me again like that and I will make sure-"

"_Silencio!_"

Hermione watched Blaise fume as his gaze shifted behind her.

"He asked for it," Malfoy simply said.

"Malfoy!" she reprimanded. "Undo it now!"

They were interrupted. The door swung open and Snape stepped in, glaring at the four of them.

"I trust you have completed the task if you are busy having a social chat?"

"Professor – "

"No further discussion, Miss Granger. I will see you tomorrow. All of you get out."

Hermione hurriedly collected her things, unaware if Malfoy had managed to undo his charm or not. Tracey raced through the door without chancing them another glance. Blaise followed.

Snape gave them an impatient glare as they made their way to the entrance. "Sir, the cauldrons –"

He smirked.

She shut-up.

The door slammed behind them and Malfoy and Hermione were alone, standing in the dark hallway. The realisation of what had just passed set her off. What Malfoy just did inadvertantly sealed her alliance and she was angry for not being the one to control it.

She glared at the blond Slytherin. "I didn't need you coming to my defence! I hope you undid the charm before he left!"

"Is that what you think I was doing?"

Hermione huffed. "You are the cause of all my problems, you know that?"

He laughed. "Well what a coincidence, Granger. Because you happen to be the cause of mine, so what do you suppose we do about it?"

"Resolve it once and for all. I can't continue like this!"

"Neither can I." In one swift move, Hermione suddenly felt herself pressed up against the cool wall, her mouth opening in defied surprise.

Malfoy was hovering over her, his hands on her shoulders. The look on his face – she had seen it before – triggered a rush of adrenaline to course through her veins. It had been a while, but how could she forget the determined heat that pooled in his darkening eyes. "What you nearly lost doesn't even come close to what I stand to lose," he said, his voice low.

Her internal dialogue begged her to step away but she was locked in place, suddenly wishing for him to close the distance - needing him to close the distance. She was emotionally drained and yet, it was clear to her in that moment why she had taken a side. Even her voice betrayed her as she tried to comply with her logical side. "Then, don't," she said in defeat. There was no authority in her tone.

His lips came down and brushed over hers before he pulled back. Hermione shut her eyes, pretending that the stream of heat leading to her lower abdomen was nothing more than an imagined response.

"Granger, you're my biggest problem." And then he kissed her hard. She let him. And it was unlike any of the kisses they had shared previously – the ones that had served to calm the needs of a potion. It was real and she was responding, her desire growing like she had waited for it for so long that the finality of his mouth dancing with hers only hinted at what they could share.

There it was: the full realisation of their predicament.

His hands came off the wall and cupped her head, his fingers raking into her hair at the nape of her neck. His mouth goaded hers open and she melted into him, his dominating tongue swiping across hers and sending shivers down her spine.

Finally, Hermione let her hands come up and grab hold of his forearms, letting her body relax against the wall as he took charge, his hands moving slowly down her neck, over her shoulders, brushing past her heaving chest, and down to her waist. He gripped her hips and pressed himself against her, his mouth growing more dmemanding against hers, like he couldn't get enough. Neither could she. Hermione moaned into his mouth as he ground his hips against hers, letting her feel all of him. She heard him inhale and felt his arms tense.

"Granger," he groaned, pulling back. She looked back at him, her breaths coming short as she watched his façade drop to show the real Malfoy. "Agree to this, Granger. Agree to it and we can sort the rest out."

His hand was sliding up her skirt as he waited for her response, caressing her thighs, and riding up and up, brushing over her panties – one finger, then two, grazing over the spot that gave away her answer. She exhaled, closing her eyes and nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

Just as soon as the word has escaped her mouth, he removed his hand and stepped back, taking her hand and pulling her down the corridor. He was leading her into darkness.

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A/N: OMG! What now? LOL


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